A  CAVALIER 


OF  VIRGINIA 


G-E-  THEODORE  ROBERTA 


A    CAVALIER    OF   VIRGINIA 


UNIX*  SOL  CALIF;  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


WORKS  OF 


G.  E.  THEODORE  ROBERTS 


Jl  Cavalier  of  Virginia  . 
Captain  Love  .... 
{Brothers  of  "Pen/  .  . 
Hemming,  the  Adventurer 


Comrades  of  the  Trails 
Vhe  Tied  Feathers  . 
Flying  'Plover 


$1.50 
1.50 
1.50 
1.50 

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1.50 
1. 00 


L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

New   England  Building,  Boston,  Mass. 


"  FRANCIS     DRURIE     CAUTIONED    HIS     HEART   NOT   TO    BE    A 
FOOL."  (See page  66) 


A   CAVALIER  OF 
VIRGINIA 

A    ROMANCE 


Q.  E.  THEODORE  ROBERTS 

Author  of  " Brothers  of  'Peril,  "  "Captain  Love,  " 
"Hemming  the  Adventurer,  "  etc. 


Illustrated  by 

LOUIS  <D.  COWING 


BOSTON  +>  L.  c  <PAQE  & 

COMPANY     <&     MCDCCCCX 


Copyright,  1909 
BY  THE  FRANK  A.  MUNSEY  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1910 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  March,  1910 


Eltctretyfied  and  Printed  6y 
THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  ff.  Simondt &•  Co.,  Boston, U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 


PAGE 

THE  HOME-COMING i 

THE  BROTHERS 12 

ISOBEL'S  FUTURE 22 

AN  OFFER  OF  EMPLOYMENT  ....  33 

A  STRANGE  LETTER 42 

THE  BALL  AT  ADMIRAL'S  PRIDE  ...  53 

A  BREAKFAST  VISIT 69 

FRANCIS  SAILS  AWAY 81 

AT  THE  CAT  AND  RAT 93 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  YELLOW  FACE  .  .  106 
IN  WHICH  A  SPANISH  GENTLEMAN  ARRIVES 

IN  VIRGINIA 116 

ISOBEL  SAILS  AWAY 133 

ISOBEL'S  DISCOVERY 150 

FRANCIS  DRURIE  RETURNS  TO  BRISTOL  .  .  161 
THREE  GENTLEMEN  FOLLOW  AN  ELUSIVE 

QUEST 175 

SOMETHING  HEARD  OF  ALCAZARDO  .  .  188 

THE  BRAVE  ADVENTURE  A  GOOD  FIGHTER  .  198 

ISOBEL  LEARNS  HER  UNCLE'S  REAL  NATURE  214 

THE  ICE-FLOE 228 

DENIS  ST.  OVIDE  DUVAL 243 

THE  BRAVE  ADVENTURE  SUNK  .  .  .  254 

UNSUSPECTED  FATE 267 

ISOBEL  LOOKS  FROM  HER  WINDOW  .  .  281 

A  PLEASANT  TIME  BEFORE  BREAKFAST  .  292 

THE  RISING 302 


2132481 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACK 

"  FRANCIS  DRURIE  CAUTIONED  ms  HEART  NOT  TO 

BE  A  FOOL  "  (See  page  66)     .       .       .      Frontispiece 

"  A  CHANGE  CAME  TO  FRANCIS  DRURIE'S  TANNED 

FACE" 8 

"  AFTER  TWENTY  MINUTES  OF  THIS  FRANTIC  STRUGGLE 

THERE  WAS  NOT  A  PIRATE  LEFT"        .       .  2IO 

"  DUVAL'S  DARK  FACE  WAS  FLUSHED  WITH  ANGER  "    257 


A 

CAVALIER  OF  VIRGINIA 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  HOME-COMING 

FOR  the  past  six  days  —  since  first  regaining  the 
fringe  of  the  settlements  —  the  little  force  had  been 
gradually  disbanding.  Woodsmen,  trappers,  pioneer 
farmers,  traders,  millers,  planters,  and  gentlemen  of 
rank  and  fortune  —  singly  or  by  twos  and  threes, 
they  had  broken  away  and  gone  back  to  their  homes 
and  private  affairs. 

For  two  months  they  had  campaigned  in  that  alluring 
but  menacing  wilderness  that  lay,  unfathomed,  between 
the  cultivated  lands  and  the  unknown  West.  Now, 
when  the  forest  foliage  was  reddening  under  the  frosts 
of  late  October,  and  a  healthy  regard  for  the  rifles  of 
the  Virginian  militia  had  been  implanted  in  the  shifty 
hearts  of  two  tribes  of  savages,  they  felt  free  to  return 

to  their  interrupted  businesses  and  pleasures. 

1 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


At  last,  where  Saddle  Hill  Trail  branches  off  from 
the  king's  highway,  Master  Francis  Drurie  and  Captain 
Simeon  Hewett  drew  rein  and  shook  hands. 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  Frank!  " 
"And  to  you,  Sim  —  God  bless  you!" 
Then  Hewett  wheeled  toward  Saddle  Hill,  touched 
spur  to  his  thin  nag,  and  lifted  his  hat.     Drurie  re- 
turned  the   salute,    and   trotted   eastward   along   the 
highway. 

And  thus  had  six  companies  of  Virginian  riflemen  — 
men  hi  homespun,  buckskin,  blue  and  gold,  coonskin 
caps  and  laced  hats  —  disbanded,  without  the  sanction 
of  general  orders,  or  any  blaring  of  trumpets.  These 
were  soldiers,  not  mummers.  The  rifle-work  and  the 
sword-work  were  over  for  the  season.  Their  duty 
to  their  country  was  done  for  the  time.  God  grant 
them  to  find  their  families  still  intact,  their  cabins  and 
houses  still  standing,  and  their  crops  garnered  in  good 
order! 

Francis  Drurie's  coat  of  fine  blue  cloth  was  patched 
and  ripped  and  weather-stained.  His  hat  was  faded, 
and  the  gold  lace  on  it  tarnished  beyond  reburnishing. 
His  saddle  was  black  with  wear  and  wet  and  sunburn. 
On  his  legs  he  wore  breeches  of  buckskin;  and  his 
high  boots  of  English  leather  had  been  replaced  weeks 
before  by  beaded  moccasins  and  fringed  leggings.  He 


The  Home-coming 


carried  a  long  flint-lock  rifle  slung  across  his  shoulders, 
pistols  in  his  holsters,  and  a  sword  at  his  side. 

His  face  was  tanned  to  a  red-brown  as  deep  as  an 
Indian's;  and  from  that  savage- hued  mask  his  blue 
eyes  shone  out  with  startling  brightness.  His  light 
brown  hair,  where  it  lay  on  his  neck  unpowdered,  and 
tied  with  a  narrow  ribbon,  was  bleached  by  the  sun  to 
the  shade  of  ripe  corn-husks.  He  was  slender  of  figure, 
and  but  little  above  the  medium  height  of  men  of  his 
race;  but  he  was  well-muscled  and  well-featured,  thin 
and  hard  as  a  hound,  and  with  courage  in  eyes  and 
brow  to  be  read  at  a  glance.  For  all  his  service-worn 
equipment,  and  sixty  days  of  campaigning,  he  sat 
straight  and  rode  lightly. 

At  a  gap  in  a  hedge  barred  with  rails,  Francis  Drurie 
dismounted.  Here  began  a  shaded  path  which  he 
knew;  and  by  it  he  would  ride,  coolly  and  free  of  dust, 
across  the  groves  of  Fairwood  Manor  and  Admiral's 
Pride,  and  into  the  arms  of  his  family.  He  lowered 
the  rails,  led  his  horse  over  and  swung  to  the 
saddle. 

The  narrow  path  was  carpeted  with  short,  thin 
grass  as  soft  as  moss.  The  hoofs  of  his  horse  made  no 
sound.  Suddenly  across  the  still  air,  fragrant  with 
the  breath  of  ripened  leaves  and  mellow  earth,  and 
cones  purpling  in  the  sun,  lifted  a  voice,  singing. 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Francis  knew  the  voice;    and  these  are  the  words  of 
the  verse  he  heard: 

"  Time  is  old  and  life  is  brief  — 

Then  'tis  shame  to  prate  of  sorrow. 

If  to-day  holds  naught  of  grief, 
Let  the  good  God  mind  to-morrow. 

Time  is  old,  but  Youth  is  strong ; 

Life  is  brief,  but  Love  is  long." 

Francis  drew  rein,  smiling.  The  singing  had  ceased, 
the  sweet  voice  dropping  to  silence  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  sprung  upon  the  drowsy  air.  He  reflected  for 
a  moment  and  then  struck  up  the  last  verse  of  the 
familiar  song. 

"  Ride  ye  south  and  ride  ye  north  — 
You'll  be  riding  home  to-morrow 

Back  from  whence  ye  cantered  forth 
With  your  scars  and  weary  sorrow. 

Time  is  old  and  Death  is  strong ; 

Life  is  brief,  but  Love  is  long." 

A  moment's  silence  followed  the  conclusion  of  the 
young  man's  effort;  then  came  a  short,  glad  cry  — 
stifled  almost  as  soon  as  uttered  —  from  somewhere 
down  the  woodland  path.  The  tanned  cheeks  of  the 
campaigner  flushed  at  the  sound.  He  waited,  tense 
in  the  saddle.  The  horse  began  to  fidget,  knowing  that 


The  Home-coming 


there  was  no  ambush  of  painted  savages  to  fear  in  the 
woodlands  of  the  manor. 

Puzzled  by  the  silence,  and  wondering  abashed  at 
the  note  of  that  brief  cry,  Francis  let  the  horse  move 
forward;  then  on  second  thought  he  sprang  to  the 
ground,  caught  the  reins  up  on  one  of  the  holsters, 
and  walked  briskly  ahead.  The  horse  followed  quietly. 

In  this  manner  they  moved  along  for  a  considerable 
distance,  the  young  man  expecting  to  catch  sight  of 
the  girl  at  every  turn  of  the  path,  and  at  every  turn 
wondering  more  and  more  why  she  did  not  appear. 
He  increased  his  pace,  and  soon  saw  the  gleam  of  a 
white  frock  between  the  forest  walls  hi  front.  She  was 
moving  away  from  him. 

11  Isobel,  Isobel! "  he  called,  and  broke  into  a  run. 

She  did  not  turn  until  he  was  within  a  few  yards  of 
her.  Then  she  sprang  aside,  and  faced  him  with 
feigned  amazement  in  her  splendid  eyes.  There  was 
another  emotion  there  which  the  amazement  could 
have  hidden  only  from  persons  with  as  little  experience 
in  such  matters  as  young  Drurie. 

"  Frank!  "  she  cried. 

Laughing,  he  tried  to  catch  her  in  his  arms;  but 
she  slipped  out  of  his  embrace,  and  held  him  away 
with  one  light  hand.  Her  brow  and  cheeks  were 
bright  with  fleeting  colour.  Her  eyes  looked  past  him, 


6  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

dark  as  deep  water,  but  bright  as  stars.  Everything 
about  her  was  bright,  and  yet  of  a  brightness  that  was 
as  tender  as  dimness  —  as  tender  as  the  half-lights  of 
dusk  and  dawn.  Though  her  eyes  and  hair  were  so 
dark  that  they  often  looked  black,  her  skin  was  of  a 
wonderful  fairness.  About  her  white  neck  gleamed  a 
thin  gold  chain,  holding  just  below  the  tender  hollow 
of  her  throat  a  small  gold  cross  set  with  pearls  which 
Francis  had  given  her  on  a  birthday  several  years  ago. 

"Have  you  dropped  from  the  tree-tops?"  she 
asked. 

Young  Drurie  did  not  answer  immediately.  He 
stood  with  his  arms  hanging  at  his  sides,  his  forehead 
puckered  ever  so  slightly,  smiling,  but  with  cross-lights 
of  puzzled  inquiry  in  his  blue  eyes. 

"  From  the  tree-tops,  if  you  like  —  from  thousands 
and  thousands  of  miles  of  tree-tops  —  but  it  was 
harder  than  dropping,  as  Jumper,  here,  could  tell 
you,"  he  said.  "  But  what  tricks  are  you  up  to,  Iso- 
bel  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously.  "  Why  don't  you  laugh  at 
me?  Why  don't  you  kiss  me?  Why  don't  you  make 
fun  of  my  shabby  coat  and  brick-red  face?  You  are 
not  natural,  Isobel.  I  heard  you  singing  a  long  time 
ago  —  and  I  sent  a  voice  back  to  you.  And  you  heard 
it,  I  think.  Then  why  did  you  turn  around  and  run 
straight  away  from  me?  That  was  not  kind,  Isobel." 


The  Home-coming 


She  did  not  meet  his  steady  regard. 

"  I  did  not  run,"  she  said. 

He  let  that  pass  for  the  little  it  was  worth. 

"  You  were  sorry  when  I  went  away.  I  thought 
you  would  be  glad  when  I  got  back,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  I  am  glad!  "  she  cried.    "  You  know  I  am  glad!  " 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  presume  to  deny  what  you  say, 
dear;  but  you  dp  not  behave  as  if  you  were  very 
glad,"  he  returned  gently.  "  You  are  changed,  little 
girl.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you  changed  in  any  way. 
I  have  always  thought  that  you  would  be  as  glad  to 
see  me  home  again  as  you  were  sorry  to  see  me  go 
away." 

"When  did  you  think  about  it?"  she  asked,  mock 
incredulity  in  her  voice.  "  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe 
that  you,  a  full-fledged  soldier  of  Virginia,  gave  any 
time  to  such  foolish  reflections?  Be  honest,  Frank, 
and  tell  me  when  you  thought  about  whether  I  should 
be  glad  or  sorry  to  see  you  home  again.  I  am  sure  it 
was  not  when  you  were  fighting  with  the  savages,  or 
eating  in  their  lodges,  or  riding  through  the  forest  with 
your  comrades." 

The  young  man  gazed  at  her  in  undisguised  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  such  idiotic  questions,  Isobel  ?  " 
he  complained.  "  But  I  shall  answer  them,  though  I 


8  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

do  not  think  them  sincere.  Honestly,  then,  I  often 
made  pictures  of  our  meeting  hi  my  mind  —  while  we 
marched,  and  when  I  lay  hi  my  blankets  at  night ;  and 
ever  since  I  parted  with  Hewett  at  the  crossroads  I've 
been  thinking  how  fine  it  would  be  to  —  to  — 

"To  what?"  she  asked. 

"  To  kiss  you  again,"  he  said. 

"  Oh!  "  exclaimed  the  girl  softly,  her  eyes  intent  on 
his  beaded  moccasins. 

"  I  really  thought  I  was  going  to  do  it.  My  mind 
was  set  on  it,"  he  ventured. 

"  And  you  didn't,  after  all." 

"  I  don't  kiss  by  force,"  he  said,  smiling  forlornly. 

"  Frank,"  she  said  in  a  changed  voice,  "  you  must 
realize  now  that  we  are  no  longer  children." 

"  Children!"  he  cried  in  mild  indignation.  "  Chil- 
dren !  Who  says  we  are  children  ?  True,  you  are  only 
eighteen  —  but  I  am  twenty-two.  Children  don't 
command  companies  of  riflemen  campaigning  in  the 
wilderness."  He  laughed  boyishly  at  his  own  big  talk. 
"  But,  in  all  seriousness,"  he  added,  "  why  have  I  not 
as  much  right  to  kiss  you,  now  that  I  am  a  man,  as  I 
had  when  I  was  an  unappreciative  child  ?  " 

"  But  you  know  that  you  have  not,"  she  replied 
quietly. 

A  change  came  to   Francis   Drurie's  tanned  face. 


A    CHANGE     CAME    TO    FRANCIS    DRURIE  S    TANNED    FACE. 


The  Home-coming  9 

The  whimsical  light  faded  from  his  blue  eyes,  and  his 
lips  straightened  a  little.  "  You  are  wiser  than  I  am, 
my  dear  Isobel,"  he  said.  "  You  realize  my  position 
better  than  I  do  myself.  It  is  evident  that  you  have 
given  some  thought  to  the  matter.  The  elder  sons 
—  the  heirs  to  the  tobacco-fields  and  slaves  —  are  the 
fortunate  fellows  who  retain  the  privilege  of  kissing  their 
lady  friends  after  arriving  at  the  age  of  manhood.  The 
poor,  unfortunate  devils  who  have  their  own  way  to 
make  in  the  world  must  learn  discretion  all  of  a  sudden. 
I'd  not  thought  of  that,  but  I  see  the  good  sense  of  it 
clear  enough.  I  shall  now  kiss  your  hand,  my  dear,  by 
way  of  greeting  between  old  playmates  after  an  absence 
of  two  months  —  and  then  I'll  let  the  argument  drop. 
May  I  venture?  " 

"  No,  you  may  not,"  she  replied  with  spirit.  "  You 
have  spoken  very  unkindly.  Because  I  ask  you  to 
remember  that  we  are  no  longer  little  children,  you 
instantly  speak  as  if  —  as  if  I  do  not  care  for  you  any 
more  because  —  because  you  are  not  the  heir  to  Ad- 
miral's Pride.  I  do  not  care  for  Admiral's  Pride!  You 
are  —  very  unkind." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  most  humbly,  Isobel,"  said 
Francis  anxiously.  "  God  knows  I  do  not  want  to 
think  that!  We've  been  the  best  of  friends  ever  since 
you  came  to  Virginia,  little  girl;  so  why  squabble  just 


10  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

because  you  have  suddenly  become  impressed  by  your 
great  age?  That  would  be  childish,  certainly.  I  am 
sorry  that  I  have  caused  you  any  anxiety  —  and  still 
more  sorry  that  I  have  spoken  unkindly.  But  if  your 
voice  shakes  again,  dear,  as  it  did  just  now,  I'll  kiss 
you  —  though  they  hang  me  for  it." 

Isobel  looked  swiftly  into  his  eyes,  and  as  swiftly 
away  again.  Then,  as  if  working  for  a  wager,  she 
asked  him  questions  about  the  wilderness,  the  savage 
tribes,  the  fighting,  the  marching,  and  the  wild  animals 
he  had  encountered.  And  while  she  questioned  and 
he  answered  they  moved  forward,  side  by  side,  with 
the  horse  close  at  their  heels. 

The  path  was  so  narrow  that  his  right  hand  presently 
touched  her  left.  In  a  second  their  fingers  clasped  and 
held;  and  so  they  moved  along,  talking  briskly,  though 
somewhat  vaguely,  and  each  pretending  unconscious- 
ness of  what  had  happened.  In  the  depths  of  the 
woods  they  crossed  a  low  stone  wall  that  separated 
Fairwood  Manor  from  Admiral's  Pride. 

"  Now,  I  must  go  back  to  the  manor.  I  am  spending 
the  day  with  Uncle  Henry,"  said  the  girl.  As  she  spoke 
she  gently  withdrew  her  hand  from  the  young  man's. 
He  did  not  try  to  retain  it.  He  made  no  sign  of  knowing 
that  his  hand  had  been  anywhere  but  in  his  own 
pocket. 


The  Home-coming  11 

"  And  to-morrow?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  be  at  home  to-morrow,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  I'll  ride  over  in  the  morning,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  some  interesting  specimens  of  picture-writing  for 
your  father's  collection." 

He  swung  to  the  saddle,  lifted  his  hat  and  let  the 
eager  horse  start  off  at  a  sharp  trot.  Where  the  path 
broke  through  the  underbrush  into  a  wide  avenue  that 
led  up  to  the  house  of  Admiral's  Pride  he  turned  and 
glanced  back.  The  girl  was  still  standing  where  he  had 
left  her,  gazing  down  the  green  pathway.  She  blew  a 
kiss  to  him  and  vanished  in  a  twinkling. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  BROTHERS 

IN  those  days  there  were  not  many  finer  estates  in 
Virginia  than  Admiral's  Pride,  and  few  finer  residences 
than  Captain  Paul  Drurie's.  The  estate  had  been  first 
settled  and  cleared,  and  the  house  built  by  the  captain's 
father,  old  Rear-Admiral  Drurie.  The  admiral,  in 
his  day,  had  been  a  hero  in  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  the 
English  public,  and  was  affectionately  known  in  every 
ship  of  the  navy  as  "  Hot-Shot  Bill." 

In  front  of  the  house  lay  six  acres  of  velvety  lawn  and 
well-tended  shrubberies.  The  park  itself  —  woodlands 
of  oak,  walnut,  and  cedar  —  covered  one  hundred 
acres.  The  house,  with  its  offices  and  lawns,  kennels 
and  stables,  occupied  the  centre  of  the  park.  Back  of 
this  block  of  land  were  the  negro  quarters,  the  great 
cattle-sheds,  the  windmill  and  tobacco-houses,  and 
hundreds  of  acres  of  meadow,  pasture,  and  forest, 
and  the  fields  where  the  corn,  tobacco,  and  sugar-cane 
were  raised.  Yes,  it  was  a  fine  home  to  which  young 
Master  Francis  Drurie  rode  back,  in  his  shabby  coat 

12 


The  Brothers  13 


and  Indian  moccasins,  astride  his  weather-blackened 
saddle. 

A  couple  of  hound  puppies  were  the  first  of  the 
household  to  catch  sight  of  the  horseman.  They 
charged  across  the  lawns  to  meet  him,  yelping  with 
delight  at  the  prospect  of  a  little  excitement.  When 
the  man  spoke  to  them,  and  they  saw  that  the  raw- 
boned  horse  was  no  other  than  Jumper,  their  demon- 
strations immediately  took  on  a  subdued  note. 

Next  an  old  hound,  gray  of  muzzle,  and  with  one 
eye  like  a  clouded  opal,  got  to  his  feet  on  the  lower 
gallery,  sniffed  the  air  inquiringly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  descended  to  the  lawn  at  a  dignified  trot.  This 
was  Bellringer,  who  had  led  the  pack  for  seven  years, 
and  for  three  had  loafed  about  the  galleries,  honourably 
retired  from  the  field  because  of  stiffening  joints  and 
a  thickening  windpipe.  At  sight  of  him  Francis 
drew  rein  and  dismounted. 

The  dog  quickened  his  pace  a  little,  and  began  to 
twist  his  long  tan- and- white  body  as  the  lad  drew 
near.  He  settled  lower  on  his  legs,  drew  back  his  gray 
upper  lip  and  displayed  a  couple  of  white  fangs.  From 
deep  in  his  rusty  throat  came  a  gurgling  growl  —  a 
growl  as  expressive  of  welcome  and  joy  and  love  as 
any  human  cry.  He  lifted  himself  stiffly  to  his  full 
height  and  planted  his  front  paws  on  the  young  man's 


14  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

breast;  and,  standing  thus,  he  yelped  with  all  his 
strength. 

It  was  old  Bellringer's  yelping  that  announced  to 
everybody  in  and  about  the  house  that  the  militiaman 
was  home  again  from  the  wilderness.  The  captain  left 
his  book  open  on  the  study  table  and  hobbled  to 
the  lawn.  The  ancient  butler  —  who  had  been  a 
gunner's-mate  aboard  the  captain's  ship  —  followed 
close.  Mrs.  Drurie  sped  from  her  bedroom  to  the 
rail  of  the  upper  gallery,  looked  eagerly  about  and, 
with  a  little  scream  of  delight,  turned  and  fled  back 
again,  down  the  great  staircase  and  out  to  the  lawn. 
From  the  majestic  old  cook  in  her  red-and-yellow 
turban,  to  the  youngest  housemaid  in  spotless  white 
cotton  and  white  headkerchief,  all  the  black  house  serv- 
ants appeared  and  formed  a  group  behind  the  master, 
the  mistress,  and  the  privileged  old  white  butler. 

Francis  Drurie  embraced  and  kissed  his  mother, 
shook  the  captain's  hand  for  a  full  minute  —  all  the 
time  the  two  grinned  feelingly  at  each  other  without 
a  word  —  and  then  gave  a  cordial  grip  to  the  old  hero 
who  had  descended  comfortably  from  serving  his  guns 
on  the  seas,  under  both  Hot- Shot  Bill  and  Captain  Paul, 
to  serving  soups  and  wines  ashore.  To  the  group  behind 
them  he  waved  a  hand,  and  called  a  good-natured 
greeting. 


The  Brothers  15 


"Where  is  John?"  he  asked  presently,  looking 
up  at  the  house. 

"  John  ?  Why,  John  is  shooting  with  Fairwood 
to-day,"  replied  the  captain. 

Mrs.  Drurie  smiled. 

"  I  think  he  is  not  paying  much  attention  to  the 
birds.  Isobel  is  there,  too,"  she  said. 

At  that  the  captain  turned  squarely  upon  her. 

"  So  that  is  what  you  have  in  your  mind! "  he 
exclaimed  amusedly. 

"  He  is  certainly  paying  much  more  attention  to 
her  than  he  used  to,"  replied  the  lady. 

The  campaigner  gave  a  keen  ear  to  this  conversation, 
but  said  not  a  word.  As  was  usual  with  him,  he 
thought  the  more  for  saying  nothing. 

John  Drurie  and  Mr.  Fairwood  appeared  early  in 
the  afternoon,  for  the  news  of  the  Indian  fighter's 
return  from  the  wilds  had  sped  over  three  plantations 
with  the  despatch  of  the  wind.  John  was  honestly 
pleased  to  see  his  brother  safe  and  sound  again;  but 
it  looked  as  if  Mr.  Fairwood,  of  Fairwood  Manor,  was 
even  more  pleased. 

"  I  heard  one  of  the  plowboys  yelling  to  another 
across  a  forty-acre  field  that  you  had  got  home  again," 
he  said.  "  There  was  a  covey  of  partridges  in  the  air, 
right  in  front  of  my  gun.  Well,  lad,  I  let  them  go. 


16  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

There's  not  a  bird  that  flies  would  have  tempted  me  to 
wait  and  pull  trigger.  '  Frank's  home,'  I  sang  out 
to  John,  and  ran  for  the  house,  leaving  my  dogs  in 
the  stubble.  Yes,  lad,  I  put  my  best  foot  foremost, 
you  may  depend  upon  it.  I  knew  old  Gunner's-mate 
Joskins  would  be  mixing  one  of  those  three-decker 
punches  of  his." 

True  for  you,  Mr.  Fairwood  —  Joskins  had  mixed 
the  punch! 

Now  is  my  time  to  speak  of  a  punch  that  was  more 
famous,  in  its  day,  than  many  poets  and  warriors  and 
statesmen.  Though  one  could  drink  good  liquor  at 
Admiral's  Pride  at  any  hour  of  the  twenty-four  and 
at  any  season  of  the  year,  it  was  only  for  special  occa- 
sions that  the  great  punch  was  brewed.  The  Admiral 
had  invented  it,  and  named  it  after  his  flag-ship. 
Before  his  death,  he  had  taught  the  secret  of  it  to 
Joskins.  A  few  prigs  called  it  the  "  Bellerophon  " ; 
but  by  the  family,  the  intimate  friends  and  the  butler 
it  was  frankly  spoken  of  as  the  "  Billy-rough-un." 
Tradition  had  it  that  "  Hot-  Shot  Bill"  had  won 
promotion  and  recognition  in  high  places  by  this 
punch  more  than  by  his  fighting  and  seamanship. 
I  have  not  a  doubt  that  this  is  true  —  for  the  navy 
was  full  of  exceptional  fighters  (so  full  that  the  Lords 
of  the  Admiralty  sometimes  grew  quite  tired  of  hearing 


The  Brothers  17 


of  their  deeds  of  valour),  but  had  only  one  punch  that 
was  above  criticism.  The  inventor  had  given  the 
receipt  of  the  punch  to  his  sovereign  and,  in  return, 
had  been  invited  to  dinner.  This  was  the  drink  that 
was  mixed  by  the  ex-gunner's  mate  Joskins,  in  honour 
of  Francis  Drurie's  return  from  campaigning  in  the 
West. 

But  Francis  was  not  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  it  fully. 
He  felt  a  restlessness  that  he  could  not  account  for  — 
a  restlessness  of  the  mind  rather  than  the  body  — 
and  a  depression  of  spirit  equally  unreasonable. 
Fresh  from  a  bath,  clothed  in  the  fine  linen  and  un- 
stained garments  of  prosperity,  with  the  great  punch 
before  him  on  the  gleaming  mahogany,  and  his  father, 
his  brother,  and  Fairwood,  of  Fairwood  Manor,  near 
him,  yet  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  glanced 
continually  through  the  long  window  of  the  dining- 
room  into  the  garden  where  the  gold  of  the  sunlight 
was  deepening  on  stalk  and  leaf. 

The  talk  seemed  trivial  to  him,  though  it  was  the 
talk  of  his  class  and  his  country  —  of  crops,  dinners, 
men,  dogs,  and  horses  —  subjects  that  had  always 
interested  him  keenly  until  the  present  moment. 
Even  the  incidents  of  the  campaign  had  dwindled  to 
insignificance  in  his  eyes.  In  answer  to  the  questions 
of  the  men  he  told  them  of  the  skirmishing,  the  hard- 


18  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

ships,  the  fine  shooting  of  the  pioneers,  the  customs 
of  the  tribes,  and  what-not;  but  he  spoke  without  his 
usual  warmth  —  a  fact  that  was  as  noticeable  to  the 
others  as  to  himself. 

"  You  are  tired,  lad,"  said  the  captain  anxiously. 
"  You  should  turn  in  and  sleep  the  clock  around." 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  feel  tired,"  replied  Francis.  "  I 
have  had  plenty  of  sleep  in  the  last  week  since  we  got 
out  of  the  dangerous  country.  We  slept  lightly  before 
that  out  of  respect  for  our  scalps.  But  I  feel  a  trifle 
restless,  and  that's  a  fact.  It  may  be  owing  to  the 
sudden  change  from  constant  alertness  and  poor  fare 
to  this  sort  of  thing."  He  looked  at  the  great  silver 
bowl.  "  Perhaps  I  have  acquired  the  habit  of  work. 
It  may  be  that  I  miss  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of  the 
life  I  have  been  living  for  the  past  two  months." 

"  Cheer  up,  lad,"  said  Mr.  Fairwood.  "  You'll  get 
fatigue  and  excitement  enough  next  week,  for  we  hunt 
the  Dudley  country  on  Monday,  the  Swan  River 
country  on  Wednesday,  and  Saddle  Hill  on  Saturday." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Francis,  for  he  was  a  keen 
sportsman,  and  the  best  gentleman  rider  in  the  county, 
either  at  flat-racing,  cross-country,  or  steeple-chasing. 

"  But  Jumper  looks  thin  and  unfit,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "  He'll  need  a  deal  of  graining  before  Monday." 

"  Don't   hunt   him  for   a  fortnight,   lad,"    advised 


The  Brothers  19 


Mr.  Fairwood.  "  Let  him  rest,  and  take  the  pick  of 
my  stud  until  he  is  fit  for  work  again." 

"  But  you  offered  me  a  mount,  sir,  until  Snowball's 
shoulder  hardens,"  said  John,  smiling. 

Mr.  Fairwood  turned  a  haughty  glance  in  the 
speaker's  direction.  He  had  gray  eyes,  easily  warmed 
to  good  nature  or  chilled  to  displeasure.  He  was 
famous  for  saying  what  he  felt. 

"  But  ?  "  he  questioned,  in  a  voice  of  indignation. 
"  What  d'ye  mean,  John,  by  saying  '  but '  to  me  ?  I 
offered  you  a  mount,  sir,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
offer  still  holds.  Any  friend  of  mine,  or  son  of  a  friend, 
or  friend  of  a  friend,  is  welcome  to  a  horse  from  my 
stables,  or  a  bottle  from  my  cellar,  whenever  he  wants 
it.  But  did  I  offer  you  the  best  ?  No,  John,  I  did  not. 
You  will  have  to  put  up  with  the  second  best." 

John  was  too  thoroughly  abashed  to  even  try  to 
reply.  Francis  felt  sorry  for  him,  but  could  not  help 
thinking  that  an  occasional  facer  of  the  kind  would  do 
him  no  harm.  John  took  it  too  much  for  granted  that 
the  best  of  everything  should  be  his.  The  captain 
looked  neither  abashed,  sorry,  or  amused.  He  refilled 
Mr.  Fairwood's  glass  from  the  half-pint  ladle,  then 
looked  fixedly  at  his  elder  son. 

"  How  is  it,"  he  asked,  "  that  Admiral's  Pride  is 
so  short  of  hunters?" 


20  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"I  —  I  do  not  know,  exactly,"  replied  John. 

"  But  you  should  know,"  retorted  the  captain.  "  I 
put  the  stables  in  your  charge  six  months  ago.  If  you 
cannot  manage  the  stables  alone,  how  will  you  ever 
run  the  whole  estate?  John,  I  am  deeply  distressed. 
Here  we  are  —  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
Admiral's  Pride,  I'll  wager  —  short  of  horses  at  the 
start  of  the  hunting  season." 

Mr.  Fairwood  could  not  bear  to  hear  any  one  taken 
to  task.  He  gulped  his  punch,  stared  round  the  room 
with  a  swiftly  melting  eye,  and  at  last  focused  his  gaze 
upon  the  captain. 

"  Come,  Paul,  you  must  not  be  so  hard  on  the 
youngster,"  he  cried.  "  He  is  at  the  age  when  most 
men  are  fools,  anyway.  All  he  thinks  of  now  is  dressing 
himself  up  in  fine  clothes  from  London,  but  he  may 
outgrow  that.  He  may  make  a  fine,  sensible  man 
some  day,  Heaven  knows." 

Captain  Drurie  roared  with  laughter.  Francis 
turned  his  head  away,  to  hide  a  smile  that  he  could  not 
keep  from  his  face.  John  glared  at  Mr.  Fairwood, 
reckless  with  the  sting  of  injured  pride. 

"  Do  you  realize,"  cried  the  furious  heir,  "  that  you 
are  speaking  of  a  man  of  twenty-five  years  of  age  — 
of  a  bachelor  of  Oxford  University,  sir;  of  a  gentleman 
and  a  scholar  ?  " 


The  Brothers 


Fairwood,  who  thought  he  had  been  figuring  very 
tactfully  as  a  peacemaker,  gaped  at  the  young  man 
in  pained  astonishment.  Fortunately  the  ridiculous 
side  of  the  affair  struck  him  before  his  rage  exploded, 
and  he  joined  the  captain  hi  wide-throated  laughter. 
John  sprang  to  his  feet  and  marched  from  the  room. 

When  his  seniors  had  finished  their  laughter,  Francis 
said:  "  You  were  too  sharp,  Mr.  Fairwood.  He  will 
sulk  for  a  week." 


CHAPTER   III 
ISOBEL'S  FUTURE 

BEFORE  leaving  the  dining- table  and  the  silver  bowl 
Francis  won  from  Mr.  Fairwood  an  acknowledgment 
of  the  fact  that  John  had  not  been  treated  fairly. 
The  captain  took  no  part  in  the  argument,  but  sat 
far  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  eyes  turned  to  a 
portrait  of  Hot -Shot  Bill.  It  was  a  belief  of  his 
that  two  are  enough  for  any  argument.  As  soon  as 
Mr.  Fairwood  had  admitted  that  he  really  thought 
very  highly  of  John,  and  had  not  meant  more  than 
half  of  what  he  had  said,  Francis  excused  himself 
and  left  the  room. 

Francis  found  John  up-stairs,  hi  a  little  room  full 
of  books,  sulking  in  the  window-seat. 

"  John,"  said  the  campaigner,  "  Mr.  Fairwood 
wants  you  to  know  that  he  did  not  mean  what  he  said 
of  you,  and  that  he  is  sorry  he  said  it.  He  has  the 
highest  regard  for  your  scholarship,  John." 

"  Scholarship! "  cried  the  other.  "  What  is  the  use 
of  scholarship  in  this  barbaric  hole?  Here  a  rifleman 

22 


Isobel's  Future 


in  a  coon-skin  cap  is  of  more  account  than  a  poet;  and 
if  a  gentleman  can  stick  to  the  back  of  a  half-broken 
colt  he  is  looked  upon  as  the  possessor  of  a  liberal 
education.  Horses  and  dogs,  tobacco  and  rum,  fighting 
and  sleeping  —  Lord,  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  colony 
capable  of  lifting  his  brain  above  these  things!" 

"  Oh,  come  now,  John,  you  are  talking  like  an 
idiot,"  said  Francis,  laughing  good-naturedly. 

"  If  I  talk  like  an  idiot,  I  am  driven  to  it,"  replied 
John.  "  Why  was  I  sent  to  England  and  Europe  for 
my  education  if  I  am  not  to  be  allowed  to  continue  the 
life  ?  What  do  I  care  about  the  stables  ?  The  grooms 
can  manage  the  feeding  of  the  horses  quite  well  without 
my  help.  I  have  more  important  work  to  do;  and, 
by  Heaven,  I'll  do  it!" 

"What  is  the  work?"  asked  Francis. 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you?  "  retorted  John.  "  There 
is  only  one  person  in  Virginia  who  cares  the  snap  of  a 
finger  about  my  work." 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  asked  Francis. 

"  Isobel,"  replied  the  elder  brother,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  and  looking  at  Francis,  as  if  he 
expected  some  indication  of  special  interest. 

"  You  are  fortunate,"  said  the  other  indifferently. 
And  then:  "I  should  like  to  know  what  it  is  that 
interests  Isobel." 


24  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  A  history  of  Rome." 

"Rome?" 

"  Yes,  and  in  verse." 

Francis  was  honestly  astonished.  He  had  never 
suspected  John  of  the  staying  power  to  attempt  so 
monumental  a  work  as  a  history  of  any  kind,  either  in 
verse  or  prose.  Of  course  he  had  often  heard  the 
other  speak  of  his  work,  but  had  never  seen  anything 
of  it  except  a  few  dismal  lyrics. 

"Is  it  done  ?  "  he  asked,  in  an  awestruck  voice. 

John  was  disgusted  with  the  question. 

"  This  sort  of  thing  is  not  done  hi  two  months,"  he 
replied  superciliously.  "  It  is  rather  more  difficult 
than  a  campaign  against  a  handful  of  savages." 

"  And  will,  no  doubt,  be  responsible  for  more 
deaths,"  retorted  Francis,  as  he  hastened  from  the 
room.  He  had  never,  in  all  his  life,  found  John  in 
quite  such  a  beastly  humour. 

Next  morning,  shortly  after  breakfast,  Francis 
Drurie  set  out  on  foot  to  call  on  Mr.  Richard  Dariza, 
Isobel's  father.  The  Dariza  place  was  named  Hope- 
land,  and  lay  just  the  other  side  of  Fairwood  Manor. 
It  was  a  small  estate,  with  a  small,  new  house  upon  it, 
and  had  once  been  a  part  of  the  manor.  Francis 
carried  a  parcel,  in  which  were  a  number  of  examples 
of  Indian  picture-writing  for  Mr.  Dariza  and  a  necklace 


Isobel's  Future  25 

of  strange  gems  for  Isobel.  He  crossed  the  Fairwood 
lands  without  attracting  the  attention  of  any  one  at 
the  house  —  to  have  done  so  would  have  meant  delay 
and  a  second  breakfast  —  and  arrived  at  the  Dariza 
place  just  as  the  master  himself  stepped  from  the 
breakfast-room  to  the  gallery. 

Richard  Dariza  was  a  Spaniard  by  birth.  Years 
ago,  in  his  native  land,  he  had  been  well  known  in  high 
places  as  the  Senor  Ricardo  Alcazardo  da  Riza.  There 
had  been  trouble  of  a  family  and  political  nature,  and 
Da  Riza  had  Anglicized  his  name  and  turned  his  back 
for  ever  on  his  own  country.  A  year  or  two  later  he 
married  Miss  Fairwood,  of  Virginia.  This  happened 
hi  London,  and  for  twelve  years  they  made  their  home 
in  England.  Two  children  were  born  to  them  —  the 
first  a  boy,  the  second  a  girl. 

When  Isobel  was  in  her  fifth  year  the  mother  fell 
very  ill.  This  was  in  midwinter.  Dariza  was  almost 
crazed  with  terror,  and  immediately  removed  his 
family  to  the  south  of  France.  There  Mistress  Dariza 
recovered  something  of  her  strength,  but  she  talked 
continually  of  her  home  in  Virginia,  and  grieved  for  it. 
As  soon  as  the  doctors  said  that  she  was  strong  enough 
to  undertake  a  sea- voyage  her  husband  engaged  passage 
for  his  family  from  Bristol  to  the  great  colony.  The 
voyage  was  made  in  safety,  but  within  a  month  of  their 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


arrival,  at  the  home  of  her  people.  Mistress  Dariza 
died. 

Another  great  blow  awaited  the  unfortunate  Spaniard. 
It  fell  some  ten  years  later  when  his  son,  Richard 
Fairwood  St.  George  Dariza,  a  young  lieutenant  in 
the  navy,  quarrelled  with  a  senior  officer,  killed  him  in 
fair  fight,  and  vanished  as  completely  from  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  Admiralty  and  his  family  as  if  he  had 
descended  into  his  grave. 

Dariza's  thin  face  and  dark  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure 
at  sight  of  young  Drurie.  He  hastened  across  the 
gallery  and  down  the  steps,  and  caught  his  visitor's 
hand  in  both  of  his. 

"  To  see  you  again  is  like  wine  to  my  tired  spirit," 
he  said. 

Francis  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  greeting.  Such 
words,  from  his  father  or  Mr.  Fairwood,  would  have 
sounded  foolish  and  stilted,  but  from  the  master  of 
Hopeland  they  were  natural  and  sincere.  He  returned 
the  pressure  of  the  other's  thin  hands.  Dariza  led  the 
way  back  to  the  breakfast-room.  He  looked  more 
like  a  man  of  eighty  than  fifty-five.  Tall  and  of  frail 
build,  his  two  great  griefs  had  bent  him,  body  and 
spirit,  and  thinned  his  blood  like  a  fever.  And  he 
had  a  way,  recently  acquired,  of  turning  his  head 
suddenly  and  lifting  a  furtive  hand  to  his  eyes.  Some- 


Isobel's  Future  27 

times  he  would  smile  to  himself,  very  tenderly  and 
longingly,  and  that  was  more  pitiful  to  see  than 
tears. 

Francis  refused  a  second  breakfast,  but  accepted 
his  host's  offer  of  coffee  and  tobacco.  Isobel  soon 
entered  the  room,  and  spoke  to  Francis  hi  subdued 
voice  and  with  a  fleeting  glance.  He  had  already 
given  the  sheets  of  bark  and  skin  containing  the  picture- 
writing  to  Dariza,  and  now  he  extended  the  Indian 
necklace  to  the  girl. 

"  Here  is  a  little  gift  that  I  have  brought  out  of  the 
wilderness  to  you,  Isobel,"  he  said.  "  I  was  told  that 
it  once  belonged  to  an  Indian  princess." 

Isobel  flushed  and  hesitated. 

"  It  is  very  valuable,"  she  said,  and  glanced  appeal- 
ingly  at  her  father. 

"  Take  it,  dear,"  said  Dariza.  "  You  need  have  no 
scruples  about  accepting  any  gift  from  Francis  Drurie." 

Both  knew  what  he  meant,  for  of  late  he  had  often 
spoken  of  the  place  that  Francis  had  taken  in  his 
affections  since  the  loss  of  his  son.  ' 

Drurie  fastened  the  splendid,  glowing  thing  about 
the  girl's  neck.  His  hands  trembled  as  he  did  it,  and 
a  mad  desire  to  stoop  and  touch  his  lips  to  the  white 
flesh  beneath  his  fingers  went  through  him  like  fire. 
But  instead  of  that  he  said,  in  a  level  voice:  "  It  has 


28  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

a  difficult  catch,  but  I  think  I  have  fastened  it  prop- 
erly." 

Soon  afterward  Isobel  left  the  room.  The  two  men 
sat  silent  for  a  long  time,  sipping  their  coffee  and 
smoking  their  silver  tobacco-pipes.  Clay,  as  material 
for  pipes,  was  not  yet  popular  with  the  gentry,  either 
in  England  or  the  colonies. 

"  Francis,"  said  Dariza  at  last.  "  I  feel  that  I  am 
not  much  longer  for  this  world." 

Drurie  looked  at  him  in  consternation. 

"  It  is  so,"  continued  the  other.  "  No  skill  of  ours 
can  alter  it  —  the  message  is  in  my  heart.  I  am  an  old 
man  —  not  in  years,  but  in  life  —  and  the  taste  for 
earthly  pleasures  is  dead  in  me.  I  think  that  I  shall 
never  again  see  the  tobacco  harvested  from  these 
fields." 

He  paused  and  smiled  gently  at  his  friend.  Francis 
paled  a  little,  and  breathed  quickly,  but  could  find  no 
word  to  say. 

"  Do  not  pity  me  for  feeling  the  approach  of  death," 
continued  Dariza.  "  That  which  seems  horrible  to 
you,  with  youth  and  courage  and  love  your  servants, 
is  a  thing  sweet  to  me.  Death,  I  take  it,  is  no  more 
than  a  change  of  habitation  and  a  widening  of  vision; 
a  change  from  this  narrow,  grief-stricken  house  to  a 
place  where  the  eyes  of  love  shall  brighten,  never 


Isobel's  Future  29 

again  to  dim  with  suffering;  to  a  home  that  shelters 
no  dread  of  disruption.  There  my  dearest  friend 
awaits  me  —  the  woman  I  love  —  in  that  bright  house 
where  neither  pain  nor  misunderstanding  may  enter." 

He  leaned  forward,  his  arms  upon  the  table,  and 
his  bright,  dark  eyes  holding  the  younger  man's  fas- 
cinated gaze. 

"  I  do  not  speak  as  a  poet  or  a  dreamer,"  he  said, 
"  but  as  a  man  who  has  lived  and  suffered,  and  taken 
joy  of  the  world,  and  read  men  and  books,  and  sifted 
the  teachings  of  the  churches,  without  fear  or  prejudice, 
as  food  for  my  needs.  So  I  am  ready  to  go  joyfully  — 
save  for  one  fear  — one  regret." 

Drurie  tried  to  ask  the  question. 

"  It  is  this,"  went  on  Dariza.  "  My  boy  may  still 
live,  disgraced,  suffering,  and  unbefriended." 

There  was  such  agony  in  the  old  man's  eyes  that 
Francis  turned  away. 

"  I  have  none  of  this  fear  at  thought  of  leaving 
Isobel,"  said  Dariza.  "  She  is  with  relatives  and 
friends,  sheltered  and  loved.  But  my  boy!  God,  if  it  is 
that  he  lives,  and  is  hi  need  of  trust  and  tenderness, 
and  should  come  home  some  day  and  find  me  gone! " 

"Do  you  think  he  may  be  —  be  alive?"  asked 
Francis,  scarce  above  a  whisper.  "  If  so,  sir,  how  is  it 
that  he  has  not  come  home  before  this  ?  "  His  voice 


30  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

grew  surer.     "  In  good  fortune  or  evil,  Dick  Dariza 
will  never  lack  a  friend  so  long  as  I  draw  breath." 

"  Noble  heart,"  said  the  old  man.  He  extended  a 
thin  hand,  and  clutched  Drurie's  wrist.  "  My  heart 
aches  with  the  doubt  of  his  fate,"  he  whispered.  "  How 
gladly  should  I  welcome  the  sure  news  of  his  safety  in 
death.  If  he  lives,  the  life  of  the  outcast  is  his.  Dear 
God,  why  did  I  let  him  from  my  sight  ?  " 

He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept  silently. 
Francis,  unspeakably  embarrassed,  did  his  best  to 
comfort  him.  He  laid  a  timid  hand  on  the  thin,  quaking 
shoulders. 

"  Do  not  fret,  sir,"  he  murmured.  "  If  Dick  is 
dead  you  may  be  sure  that  he  died  like  a  gentleman,  for 
all  this  talk  of  his  crime  of  killing  a  superior.  If  he 
lives,  then  if  ever  I  hear  of  him  I  shall  find  him,  though 
the  search  lead  me  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  And  hi 
whatever  position  I  find  him  —  high  or  low,  rich  or 
poor,  in  bondage  or  in  power  —  I  shall  claim  him  as 
my  friend,  and  serve  him  with  all  my  heart  and 
strength." 

At  last  the  stricken  old  man  grew  calm,  and  looked 
his  young  friend  fairly  in  the  face  again. 

"  I  had  no  right  to  show  you  my  sorrow,"  he  said. 
He  gazed  through  the  long  windows  and  across  the 
sunlit  lawns  to  the  rounded  woods  of  his  brother-in- 


Isobel's  Future  31 

law's  park.  "  For  Isobel's  future  I  do  not  worry,"  he 
said.  "  She  is  sheltered,  and  the  world  is  on  her  side. 
Henry  Fairwood  will  be  her  guardian  when  I  am  gone. 
He  loves  her  as  if  she  were  his  own  daughter.  But  I 
do  not  think  his  guardianship  will  last  long.  That  a 
younger  man  will  soon  take  his  charge  from  him  I  have 
not  a  doubt." 

Young  Drurie's  blood  drummed  in  his  ears,  and  he 
felt  his  cheeks  tingling.  What  was  Dariza  going  to 
say,  he  wondered?  A  sweet  hope  flooded  his  brain 
and  heart  like  music.  But  the  old  man  did  not  look 
at  him.  Quite  unconscious  of  the  young  man's  emo- 
tion, he  said: 

"  John  is  a  good  fellow.  For  myself  I  like  men  of  a 
more  adventurous  spirit;  but  the  other  kind  makes  the 
more  comfortable  husband.  Yes,  John  is  a  safe  man; 
and  if  a  young  lady  takes  a  fancy  to  him  I  consider  it 
a  safe  fancy.  If  he  does  not  catch  my  eye  as  some 
others  do  the  fault  is  mine;  for,  a  man  of  books  and 
reveries  myself,  my  taste  is  all  for  men  of  action.  I 
saw  a  deal  of  sword-iron  and  smoke  when  I  was  a  young 
man,  and  books  have  seemed  a  limp  and  sapless 
enterprise  to  me,  in  spite  of  my  honest  application  to 
them.  The  reading  of  love-passages  will  never  take  the 
place  of  kissing;  and  even  so,  when  I  follow  the  turns 
and  chances  of  armed  conflict,  up  and  down  printed 


32  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

pages,  some  smoke  from  my  own  youth  and  a  veil  of 
blood  of  my  own  spilling  crawl  between  my  vision  and 
the  book.  Then  I  see  the  truth  —  the  worth  of  the 
reality  and  the  worth  of  the  shadow." 

Francis  murmured  a  polite  assent  to  the  old  gentle- 
man's words.  Had  they  been  spoken  hi  Dutch  he 
would  have  done  the  same,  for  not  a  phrase  had  he 
heard  after  the  reference  to  John.  So  that  was  settled, 
was  it?  Isobel  loved  John!  That  explained  her 
unusual  quiet  and  her  objection  to  being  kissed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN  OFFER  OF  EMPLOYMENT 

FRANCIS  had  not  been  home  long  when  a  letter 
arrived  for  the  captain,  from  Bristol,  in  the  care  of 
Stephen  Todd,  master  of  the  good  ship  Merryweather. 
It  was  from  a  wealthy  baronet,  who  had  been  a  ship- 
mate of  the  captain's  in  the  old  days;  and  the  heart 
of  it  was  the  offer  to  Francis  of  a  berth  with  an  expedi- 
tion bound  for  Hudson's  Bay.  It  was  quite  evident 
that  the  captain  had  been  corresponding  with  his  old 
friend,  and  had  not  failed  to  state  his  younger  son's 
qualifications  for  any  adventurous  work  on  sea  or 
land. 

The  expedition  was  to  sail  from  Bristol  in  May  of 
the  next  year.  It  was  a  venture  of  the  Royal  Com- 
pany of  London  and  Bristol  Adventurers,  designed  to 
establish  a  settlement  in  the  wilderness  of  the  far 
north  and  open  up  a  trade  in  furs  and  precious  metals 
with  the  natives  of  that  little-known  land.  The  French 
were  already  at  work  there,  but  all  the  world  knew 
that  it  was  English  territory.  The  expedition  would 


34  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

consist  of  four  vessels  at  least,  all  armed  like  pirates, 
and  each  carrying  two  commanding  officers  —  the 
military  commander  and  the  sailing-master,  or  navi- 
gator. Francis  would  be  given  the  military  command  of 
one  of  the  vessels. 

The  baronet  went  on  to  say  that  there  was  nothing 
unsound  about  the  venture;  that  he  himself  had  taken 
shares  in  it  to  the  cost  of  five  thousand  pounds,  and 
expected  a  return  of  at  least  fifty  per  cent,  profit.  In 
all  sincerity  he  advised  his  old  brother-in-arms  to 
invest  at  least  a  thousand  in  it.  He  would  reserve 
shares  to  that  amount,  on  the  chance. 

This  letter  put  even  the  hunting  in  a  second  place 
with  the  people  of  the  three  estates.  Francis  accepted 
the  offer  upon  the  moment  of  hearing  it,  but  his  rela- 
tives and  friends  fell  into  argument,  the  smoke  and 
dust  of  which  did  not  settle  for  a  month.  When  they 
talked  to  Francis  one  would  think  that  their  lives,  not 
his  life,  were  to  be  risked.  When  they  spoke  to  the 
captain  one  would  think  that  their  money,  not  his,  was 
to  be  cast  upon  the  waters.  By  the  way  they  talked  it 
over  among  themselves  one  would  think  that  some 
crime  was  contemplated  by  the  captain  and  Francis. 

Only  Mr.  Dariza  and  Joskins  were  in  sympathy  with 
the  adventurers.  Mr.  Dariza  explained,  at  great  length, 
that  an  expedition  of  this  kind  was  a  greater  thing 


An  Offer  of  Employment  35 

than  any  crop  of  tobacco  that  had  ever  been  raised 
and  sold  in  Virginia. 

"  If  our  fathers  had  all  sat  at  home,"  said  he,  "  who 
would  now  be  taking  their  ease  in  Admiral's  Pride  and 
Fair  wood  Manor?" 

As  for  the  old  ex-gunner's-mate,  Joskins,  why,  he 
was  in  two  minds  about  whether  or  not  he  should  join 
the  expedition  himself. 

"  I'd  do  it,  beyond  a  doubt,  if  it  wasn't  that  I  be 
well-nigh  seventy-five  year  old  and  so  infernal  totterish 
in  the  legs.  Aye,  Master  Frank,  there  be  no  life  hi  the 
whole  wide  world  equal  in  sport  and  eddication  to 
burnin'  powder  and  makin'  new  landfalls.  Ye'll  be 
sightin'  pirates  and  Frenchmen,  I  take  it." 

John's  objections  to  his  brother's  joining  the  expedi- 
ion  were  half-hearted;  but  his  argument  against  the 
investment  of  a  thousand  pounds  in  the  stock  of  the 
Royal  Company  of  London  and  Bristol  Adventurers 
was  sincere  enough,  and  became  in  time  far  too  per- 
sistent to  suit  the  captain.  Master  John  was  told  to 
mind  his  own  business. 

At  last  it  became  an  accepted  fact  that  Francis 
should  set  sail  for  England  in  about  seven  months' 
time,  with  his  father's  investment  in  his  pocket,  and  in 
Bristol  take  command  of  his  ship  and  up-anchor  for 
the  desolate  seas  of  the  north.  When  every  member  of 


36  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

the  household  was  convinced  of  this  the  captain  said: 
"  And  now  we'll  hear  no  more  about  it  at  the  dinner- 
table."  So  that  was  the  end  of  it  as  a  subject  of  general 
argument  and  ill  nature.  But  in  the  quiet  of  her  own 
room  Mrs.  Drurie  was  already  knitting  stockings  of 
amazing  thickness  for  her  baby  to  wear  in  the  chilly 
north. 

Francis  was  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  so  good  a 
berth  with  so  enterprising  an  expedition.  The  love 
of  the  sea  was  in  his  blood;  and,  though  he  had  won 
his  spurs  in  the  forests  of  the  West,  with  inland  planters 
and  pioneer  riflemen  beside  him  and  painted  savages 
in  front,  it  was  his  intention  to  win  fame  as  a  sea 
fighter  and  to  try  his  hand  as  soon  as  possible  at  a 
ship-load  of  Frenchmen. 

He  saw  in  this  offer  of  the  baronet's  the  initial  step 
to  a  whole  life  full  of  adventure  and  glory.  From  dis- 
tinguishing himself  as  the  military  commander  of  one 
of  the  company's  ships,  he  would  go  on  to  a  commission 
hi  the  royal  navy.  He  had  an  idea  that  some  day  the 
picture  of  another  admiral  would  hang  in  the  dining- 
room  of  Admiral's  Pride.  But  as  surely  as  he  was  satis- 
fied with  his  worldly  prospects,  just  as  surely  was  he 
dissatisfied  with  the  present  state  and  future  promise 
of  something  that  lay  —  though  he  would  not  admit 
it  —  still  closer  to  his  heart. 


37 


Mr.  Dariza's  plan  for  Isobel's  future  did  not  suit 
him  at  all.  Isobel's  attitude  suited  him  still  less. 
Before,  ever  since  their  very  first  meeting,  she  had  always 
treated  him  as  her  dearest  friend.  He  could  find 
neither  comfort  nor  reason  in  this  transferring  of 
affection  from  himself  to  his  brother  John.  It  was 
unjust.  If  he  had  been  to  Isobel's  taste  when  she  was 
seventeen  years  of  age,  why  was  he  not  still  to  her  taste  ? 
In  what  way  had  he  changed  between  his  departure 
for  the  West  and  his  return?  What  had  he  done  to 
lose  first  place  in  her  affections? 

And  what,  in  the  name  of  all  the  devils,  had  John 
done  to  gain  it  ?  When  Isobel's  kisses  had  meant  little 
to  Francis,  they  had  been  his  for  the  asking.  Before 
that  again,  when  they  had  been  a  decided  embarrass- 
ment, he  had  not  been  able  to  avoid  them.  And  now 
that  he  wanted  to  kiss  her  —  when,  to  tell  the  truth, 
he  could  think  of  nothing  that  he  wanted  to  do  quite 
so  much  —  she  would  not  let  him. 

Labouring  under  the  absurd  belief  that  he  knew 
the  ways  of  women  as  well  as  he  knew  the  science  of 
savage  warfare  and  the  anatomy  of  a  horse,  he  decided 
that  Isobel  Dariza  was  mercenary  —  and  that  her 
father  was  mercenary  —  and  that  all  the  blessings  of 
life,  save  hard  knocks,  were  reserved  for  elder  sons. 
He  came  to  this  conclusion  without  heat,  reasoning 


38  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

coolly,  according  to  his  knowledge  of  women  and  the 
world. 

Isobel  made  two  attempts  to  discuss  the  prospective 
voyage  with  Francis;  but  his  reserve  was  such  that 
she  did  not  again  refer  to  the  subject  until  months 
afterward. 

A  small  seaport  town  lay  within  ten  miles  of  Ad- 
miral's Pride.  There  were  coasting- schooners,  flat- 
boats  from  up  the  river,  and  now  and  then  a  vessel 
from  the  deep  sea.  The  whole  town  smacked  of  foreign 
lands  and  brisk  adventure.  There  was  a  wharf,  and 
there  were  old  sailors  in  their  cottages  and  salty  fellows 
drinking  in  the  tavern.  Here  was  the  square  in  which 
the  cargoes  of  Africans  were  sold  to  the  planters,  and 
here  were  long  storehouses  in  which  bales  and  hogs- 
heads of  tobacco  were  stowed,  awaiting  their  places  in 
the  holds  of  east-bound  ships. 

To  this  place,  as  the  winter  progressed,  Francis 
Drurie  paid  frequent  visits,  riding  over  on  Jumper  at 
the  expense  of  good  hunting.  It  was  like  standing  on 
the  threshold  of  a  room  in  which  he  knew  that  he  was 
soon  to  do  great  deeds;  or,  more  aptly,  on  the  porch  of 
a  vast  house  full  of  persons  and  chambers  as  yet  un- 
known to  him,  yet  among  whom  he  was  to  make 
friends  and  foes  and  live  out  his  life. 

Some  such  thought  came  to  Francis,  and  held  his 


An  Offer  of  Employment  39 

fancy.  It  amused  him  to  consider  the  old,  retired  shell- 
backs in  their  cottages  as  actors  who,  no  longer  active 
enough  to  take  their  parts  in  the  great  "  doings  "  within, 
had  been  firmly  but  kindly  pushed  from  the  bright  and 
animated  rooms  to  the  shadowy  porch.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  they  always  sat  with  a  sidewise  tilt  of  the 
head,  listening.  And  he  knew  that  it  was  for  some  echo 
of  old  things  that  they  listened,  rather  than  for  any 
voice  from  the  dusky  future. 

He  became  a  regular  visitor  at  two  or  three  of  the 
cottages,  cheering  the  old  sailors'  hearts  and  freeing 
their  tongues  and  memories  with  good  liquor  and 
tobacco,  and  listening  to  valiant  tales  of  the  sea  for 
hours  on  end.  Also,  he  paid  visits  to  the  harbour-side 
tavern  whenever  a  seagoing  craft  of  any  kind  was  in; 
and  there  he  listened  to  the  talk  of  active,  though 
humble,  players  of  the  great  game  who  had,  as  it  were, 
but  stepped  out  to  the  porch  for  a  mouthful  of  fresh 
air. 

One  bright,  keen  morning  in  December,  John  and 
Francis  rode  together  to  King's  Haven.  Relations 
between  these  two  had  been  somewhat  strained  ever 
since  the  first  word  of  the  Bristol  expedition.  Sharp 
things  had  been  said  by  both;  but  John  had  uncovered 
a  mean  stripe  in  his  character  that  was  harder  to 
forget  than  any  number  of  angry  words.  Heir  to  a 


40  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

great  estate,  he  had  objected  to  the  risking  of  a  thou- 
sand pounds  for  the  advancing  of  his  brother's  in- 
terests. 

Of  late  he  had  begun  to  see  what  a  poor  figure  he 
had  cut  in  that  affair.  It  required  no  great  power  of 
imagination  to  know  what  Francis  felt  about  it;  so, 
for  the  past  fortnight,  John  had  been  working  hard  to 
reestablish  himself  in  his  brother's  good  opinion.  It 
was  slow  work,  however;  for  Francis,  hurt  and  de- 
pressed to  a  greater  extent  than  he  himself  knew,  over 
the  affair  about  which  he  must  keep  silence,  made  no 
effort  to  forget  or  forgive  the  injustice  of  this  other 
matter.  True,  the  money  was  to  be  risked ;  but  John's 
fault  was  the  same,  for  all  that. 

During  the  ride  the  talk  was  half-hearted  and 
scanty.  Upon  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill  overlooking 
the  harbour,  the  brothers  saw  a  small  brig  lying  at 
the  wharf.  The  common-room  of  the  tavern  was 
crowded  with  sailors,  longshoremen,  and  townsmen. 

In  the  inner  room,  to  which  the  gentlemen  from 
Admiral's  Pride  were  led,  sat  an  old  fellow  with  a  head 
like  a  druid's,  and  a  body  like  a  cask.  His  frosted 
beard  lay  like  a  cascade  on  his  breast,  and  his  mous- 
taches flared  from  his  cheeks  like  wings.  His  face  was 
brown,  his  eyes  were  small,  and  gray  as  ice.  He  was 
dressed  in  weather-beaten  blue,  with  sea-boots  reaching 


An  Offer  of  Employment  41 

half-way  up  his  thighs.  His  right  hand,  clinched  on 
the  table  beside  his  glass  of  hot  rum,  looked  like  the 
knob  of  some  curious  club. 

"  Good  morning  to  you,"  said  Francis  pleasantly. 

The  old  fellow  stared  offensively  for  a  moment; 
then,  without  a  word,  he  lifted  the  glass  to  his  gusty 
moustache  and  drained  it  to  the  lump  of  sugar  in  the 
bottom.  John  flushed  red  with  indignation. 

Francis  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  Your  manners  are  not  of  the  best,  shipmaster," 
said  he. 

At  that  the  mariner  thumped  on  the  table  with  his 
great  fist  and  bellowed  for  the  landlord  to  lay  aft. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  STRANGE   LETTER 

MINE  host  opened  the  door  and  thrust  his  head 
cautiously  around  the  edge  of  it. 

"  Brown,"  said  Francis,  "  bring  me  a  fair-sized 
bowl,  a  bottle  of  Barbados  rum,  a  pint  of  French 
brandy,  a  pint  of  sherry,  red  bitters,  two  lemons,  four 
limes,  spice,  sugar,  and  boiling  water.  I  am  going  to 
try  my  hand  at  mixing  a  '  Billy-rough-un '  punch." 

"  Steady  there,  cook!  Bring  me  another  of  these 
here  buckets  o'  honest  Jamaica  stuff,"  roared  the 
mariner. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  try  my  punch,"  said  Fran- 
cis. 

"  The  deuce  take  your  punch,"  replied  the  mariner. 

John  was  for  leaving  the  room;  but  Francis  gave 
him  to  understand  that  there  was  sport  afoot,  and 
coaxed  him  into  a  chair  beside  the  hearth.  He  drew 
his  own  chair  up  to  the  table. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  a  regular  old  heart  of  oak,"  he 
said. 

42 


A  Strange  Letter  43 

The  mariner  glared  like  a  wild  beast  at  bay. 

"  I  am  proud  to  meet  such  an  honest,  outspoken, 
rough-weather  lump  of  a  son  of  Neptune,"  continued 
Francis.  "  It  is  men  like  you  who  strike  fear  into  the 
hearts  of  the  Frenchmen,  for  they  are  polite  people. 
You  have  no  more  manners  than  a  hog,  sir.  That's 
the  kind  I  like,  for  rough  and  dangerous  work.  You 
smell  of  rum  and  bilge-water.  You  fear  nobody. 
You  are  the  kind  of  man  I  like  to  think  of  as  con- 
tinually risking  a  deep-sea  grave." 

John  sat  very  quiet  in  his  chair.  The  mariner 
stared  at  Francis  with  more  of  amazement  and  less  of 
sulkiness  on  his  bewhiskered  face.  He  had  never  been 
talked  to  like  that  before.  What  was  the  youngster 
driving  at  ?  He  was  grinning  in  very  friendly  fashion, 
anyway.  The  old  fellow  grunted  uncertainly. 

"That's  better,"  said  Francis.  "I  knew  the 
moment  I  laid  eyes  on  you  that  you  were  a  sociable 
fellow  at  heart.  Sociable,  but  reserved.  That's  the 
kind  for  my  fancy.  I  love  these  bluff,  gruff,  ill-man- 
nered old  dogs  that  suspect  every  one  who  speaks 
to  them  politely  of  designs  on  their  throats  and 
purses.  They  are  the  men  who  make  England's 
strength." 

"  Be  ye  drunk  ?  "  asked  the  mariner,  with  a  dawning 
light  of  interest  in  his  eyes. 


44  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Most  assuredly  not.  Do  I  look  it  ? "  returned 
Francis  gravely.  That  was  a  shot,  right  enough.  He 
heard  John  chuckle. 

"  Oh,  ye  look  right,  aloft  and  alow!  but  ye  may 
name  me  for  a  cobbler  if  ever  I  heard  such  fool  talk 
afore  in  all  my  life,"  replied  the  other.  He  turned 
toward  John.  "  Would  ye  say  now  that  this  young  man 
be  pokin'  fun  at  me?  "  he  asked. 

Francis  answered  for  himself. 

"  There  was  a  deal  of  truth  in  what  I  said,  and  it 
was  meant  more  seriously  than  it  sounded,"  he  said  in 
a  friendly  voice  and  with  an  engaging  smile. 

"  It  sounded  danged  queer  to  me,"  grumbled  the 
mariner. 

"  Well,  however  that  may  be,  we'll  shake  hands  on 
it,"  said  Francis.  Quick  as  the  words,  his  hand  was 
up  in  the  air,  close  under  the  whiskers  of  the  bewil- 
dered, sulky,  half-awakened  old  salt.  His  bright, 
whimsical  gaze  shot  a  command  into  the  depths  of 
that  clouded  brain  that  could  not  be  resisted.  The 
old  fellow  glared  and  snorted  with  uncertainty  for 
half  a  minute;  then  the  big,  gnarled,  root-like  paw 
opened,  lifted  from  the  table,  and  enclosed  the  hand 
of  the  young  soldier. 

At  that  moment  Brown  entered  with  the  materials 
for  the  making  of  the  punch.  He  gasped  and  gaped 


A  Strange  Letter  45 

at  the  picture  made  by  Master  Francis  Drurie  and  the 
unsavoury  mariner. 

"  Stir  your  stumps,  cook !  "  growled  the  man  of  the  sea. 

The  tavern-keeper  recovered  from  his  amazement 
and  swiftly  rid  himself  of  his  burden.  He  deposited 
bottles  and  bundles  on  the  table,  stood  the  kettle 
of  boiling  water  on  the  hob,  and  finally  placed  a  glass 
of  rum  and  water  at  the  mariner's  elbow.  It  was  a 
wonder  how  he  had  carried  them  all.  The  old  fellow, 
instead  of  complimenting  him  on  his  dexterity,  scowled 
furiously. 

"  Take  it  away,"  he  shouted.  "  Can't  ye  see, 
ye  fish-eyed  son  o'  a  swab,  as  how  I  be  a  goin*  to  join 
this  gentleman  hi  a  glass  o'  decent  licker  ?  " 

"  But  — "  began  Brown  in  a  voice  of  righteous 
indignation.  The  mariner  interrupted  him  with  an 
oath  and,  snatching  up  the  glass  of  rum  and  water 
with  a  swiftness  of  which  one  would  not  have  thought 
the  big  fist  capable,  let  it  fly.  Mr.  Brown  dodged. 
The  glass  and  its  contents  splintered  and  splashed 
against  the  wall.  Mr.  Brown  slipped  from  the  room 
without  excusing  himself. 

Neither  of  the  gentlemen  made  any  comment  on 
this  remarkable  exhibition  of  table- manners.  The 
throwing  about  of  dishes,  liquors,  and  glassware  was 
not  entirely  unknown  even  in  the  best- regulated 


46  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

households.  But  it  seemed  to  be  the  last  bubble  of  the 
old  man's  internal  boiling.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  —  smiled!  Then,  with  eyes  and  ears  alert  and 
a  benevolent  relaxing  of  the  jaws,  he  followed  the 
mixing  of  the  punch. 

Francis  made  the  punch,  with  constant  hints  from 
John.  Neither  was  quite  sure  as.  to  quantities,  for 
Joskins  had  not  yet  taken  them  in  hand;  but,  as  they 
knew  that  they  had  not  forgotten  any  of  the  materials, 
they  hoped  for  the  best.  As  the  mixing  progressed, 
the  mariner's  interest  grew  and  grew. 

"  I  never  did  see  so  many  good  lickers  and  fixin's 
go  into  one  brew,"  said  he. 

Presently  he  began  to  sniff,  and  drew  his  chair 
closer  to  the  bowl. 

It  was  done.  Three  glasses  were  filled.  Three 
glasses  were  raised  and  tasted.  Never  had  a  finer 
"  Billy-rough-un  "  been  brewed  even  by  the  hand  of  the 
ex-gunner's-mate.  After  the  second  round,  John  ad- 
dressed himself  to  the  shipmaster.  He  told  him  the 
history  of  the  great  punch. 

The  old  fellow  was  impressed. 

"  An  admiral,"  he  said.  "  An  admiral  o'  the  navy. 
Well,  I  be  danged !  I  were  oncet  hi  the  navy  meself  — 
bosun's-mate.  'Twas  hi  the  navy  I  Parned  me  man- 
ners. I's  never  forgot  'em,  neither." 


A  Strange  Letter  47 

He  told  them  many  stories  of  his  adventurous 
career,  and  all  the  details  of  his  last  voyage.  His 
ship  was  the  Golden  Crown.  He  had  sailed  from 
London  thirty-five  days  before.  Yes,  he  had  felt  that 
it  was  his  last  voyage.  The  pumps  had  been  kept 
working,  day  and  night,  from  the  tenth  morning  out 
until  they  got  into  the  harbour. 

The  bowl  was  empty.  As  Francis  shook  hands 
with  the  master  of  the  Golden  Crown,  he  felt 
something  like  a  folded  paper  pressed  against  his 
palm. 

"  Mum's  the  word,  matey,"  whispered  the  salt, 
flashing  his  eyes  at  John's  elegant  back  in  the 
doorway.  "  Figger  it  out  on  the  quiet.  It  be  a  letter 
for  ye,  matey,  as  sure  as  if  your  name  was  writ  all 
over  it." 

Francis  nodded  and  slipped  the  thing  craftily  into 
his  pocket. 

"  How  long  will  you  lie  in  King's  Haven?  I  want 
to  have  another  talk  with  you  before  you  sail  away," 
he  said. 

"  I'll  lay  here  till  I  calk  me  seams  and  overhaul 
me  tops  and  get  a  cargo  —  aye,  and  drink  another 
o'  them  broadside  punches,"  replied  the  mariner, 
smiling  like  the  best-natured  soul  in  the  world. 

The  punch  had  thawed  John  as  well  as  the  ship- 


48  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

master.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  potations  of  such 
length  and  strength  so  early  in  the  morning.  No 
sooner  were  the  two  gentlemen  in  the  saddle  than 
John  said: 

"  Frank,  you  have  a  way  with  you,  and  no  mistake. 
That  old  rogue  was  no  better  than  a  pirate  when  we  first 
set  eyes  on  him,  but  he  was  mild  as  new  butter  when 
we  left.  I  could  never  have  dealt  so  with  the  old 
rascal.  He'd  have  cracked  my  head  for  me  at  the 
first  word.  When  you  are  sailing  the  seas,  you'll 
have  to  play  such  tricks  every  day.  You'll  find  these 
old  pitch-eaters  brisk  lads  to  keep  in  hand." 

Francis  laughed. 

"  Oh,  with  that  punch,  one  could  come  around  the 
devil  himself!  "  he  said. 

John  laughed  as  if  a  very  good  joke  had  been 
cracked.  His  usual  deportment  was  uncommonly 
sedate  for  one  of  his  age;  but  now  he  rode  high  in  his 
stirrups,  bumping  and  swaying,  and  beaming  to  right 
and  left. 

"  You'll  make  a  great  sailor,  Frank,"  he  cried.  "  I 
envy  you  your  career,  rip  me  if  I  don't!  A  man  can 
win  a  fine  name  at  that  sort  of  work  —  and  a  fortune 
too,  like  as  not.  It  is  not  the  highest  type  of  mind 
maybe  —  this  galloping,  slashing,  shooting,  sailing 
type  —  but  'twill  do,  lad  —  'twill  do.  And  you  come 


A  Strange  Letter  49 

honestly  by  it,  Frank.  There  were  a  dozen  of  such 
among  our  ancestors.  I  am  the  first  poet  of  the  family. 
But  it's  little  credit  I  get  for  that." 

"  But  you  say  that  Isobel  likes  your  verses  —  so, 
why  do  you  complain?"  said  Francis.  You  must 
not  imagine  from  this  that  the  punch  had  befuddled  the 
soldier's  wits  at  all. 

"  True  —  true,"  said  John.  "  That  is  something,  to 
to  be  sure.  She  has  a  very  superior  mind,  has  Isobel. 
She  is  a  fine  girl." 

It  came  to  Francis  that  he  might  just  as  well  have 
the  little  pang  over  with  now  as  later.  He  did  not  want 
people  to  think  him  a  dog  in  the  manger,  as  the  saying 
is. 

"  Yes,  she  is  a  fine  girl,"  he  said.  "  If  I  were  a 
poet,  I'd  put  it  stronger  than  that.  And  you  are  a 
lucky  man,  John." 

He  leaned  sideways  in  his  saddle  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  his  brother.  For  the  fraction  of  a  second  John 
looked  surprised.  Then,  flushing  a  little,  he  extended 
his  hand  and  pressed  that  of  Francis  swiftly  and 
strongly. 

John  had  accepted  his  congratulations!  Well, 
there  could  be  no  question  about  it  now.  The  most 
lively  hope  in  the  world  could  not  keep  a-wing  against 
such  odds.  Francis's  heart  gave  him  a  shrewd  twinge, 


50  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

and  then  felt  as  empty  and  insecure  as  a  bubble.  It 
was  worse  than  he  had  expected. 

For  a  mile  or  so  they  rode  along  without  a  word. 
John  did  not  feel  comfortable.  He  knew  that  he  had 
no  right  to  accept  his  brother's  congratulations;  for, 
though  Mr.  Dariza  had  made  no  objections  to  his  suit, 
Isobel  had  rejected  him  twice.  He  told  himself  that 
he  would  not  purposely  have  deceived  his  brother. 
He  had  been  taken  unawares.  Frank  had  made  his 
little  speech,  and  stuck  out  his  hand  so  suddenly 
that  he  had  not  had  time  to  think.  And  the  punch 
had  flustered  him  a  trifle.  In  fact,  it  was  all  Frank's 
fault  —  he  had  made  the  punch. 

But  what  did  it  matter,  anyway?  Isobel  was  sure 
to  say  "  Yes  "  before  long.  Oh,  there  was  not  a  doubt 
of  it!  She  had  not  been  able  to  give  any  reason  for 
rejecting  him.  For  that  matter,  what  possible  reason 
could  she  give  ?  In  spite  of  her  superior  mind,  she  was 
full  of  childish  whims.  Feeling  sure  of  him,  it  flattered 
her  pride  to  refuse  him.  John  was  full  of  such  con- 
vincing arguments  like  these  —  but,  for  all  that,  he  did 
not  feel  quite  at  his  ease. 

The  uncomfortable  silence  soon  wore  itself  out, 
and  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey  the  two  brothers 
talked  together  hi  friendly  vein  of  all  manner  of  unim- 
portant things. 


A  Strange  Letter  51 

When  Francis  reached  home  and  the  quiet  of  his 
own  room,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  the  thing  which  the 
old  shipmaster  had  pressed  so  secretly  into  his  palm. 
What  joke  was  the  fellow  trying  to  play  on  him?  he 
wondered.  Here  was  a  sheet  of  paper,  folded  and  re- 
folded and  sealed  with  red  wax.  The  outside  was 
black  with  grime.  Across  it  was  written,  with  a  blunt 
quill:  "  In  hand  of  Master  Job  Spark,  of  ye  Golden 
Crown."  Francis  broke  the  wax  and  opened  the 
sheet  with  infinite  care.  And  this  is  what  he  read : 

"  FRANK:  —  If  ever  you  come  to  Bristol,  haste  to 
the  Cat  and  Rat.  You  will  find  the  master  a  small 
man  with  a  bald  head  and  a  purple  mark  on  his  left 
cheek.  Gain  his  eye;  then  knock  thrice  on  the  table 
with  the  knuckles  of  your  right  hand  and  four  times 
with  the  knuckles  of  your  left.  He  will  then  come  to 
you  and  whisper,  '  Topsil.'  You  will  reply,  '  Tagant- 
sil.' 

"  Whereupon  he  will  lead  you  aside  and  give  you  full 
information  of  me;  and  if  I  happen  to  be  in  England, 
he  will  tell  you  where  to  find  me.  He  is  my  friend.  I 
have  talked  of  you  to  him  a  hundred  times.  Tell 
my  father  that  I  am  alive  and  prospering,  but  not  a 
word  of  this  to  any  one  else.  I  am  not  in  need  of  money, 
but  I  am  in  great  need  to  see  you.  Master  Spark, 


52  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

who  carries  this,  is  a  trusty  man,  but  for  fear  that  it 
may  pass  into  the  wrong  hands,  I  must  sign  myself, 

"  BADGER." 

Francis  read  the  strange  letter  twice  before  any 
light  came  to  him.  His  mind  and  heart  were  all  too 
busy  with  his  own  affairs.  It  was  the  word  "  Badger  " 
that  cleared  his  brain.  That  was  what  he  and  Isobel 
had  called  Dick,  years  ago,  and  for  no  reason  that  he 
could  remember.  Beyond  a  doubt  his  correspondent 
was  none  other  than  the  vanished  Richard  Fairwood 
St.  George  Dariza,  late  of  the  king's  navy  —  and  now 
of  the  Cat  and  Rat. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    BALL   AT   ADMIRAL'S    PRIDE 

FRANCIS  DRURIE  was  haunted,  night  after  night, 
by  the  strange  letter  from  young  Dariza.  He  could 
understand  the  cautious  style  of  it,  for  he  knew  that 
the  poor  fellow  was  in  hiding  from  the  law,  charged 
with  the  murder  of  a  certain  Captain  Sir  Howard 
Dilling.  But  what  he  was  to  gather  from  this  rigmarole 
of  knocks  on  the  table  and  a  friendly  tavern-keeper 
with  a  bald  head,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  think. 
In  great  need  of  something,  but  hi  no  need  of  money. 
Now,  what  could  he  mean  by  that  ?  Was  he  in  danger 
of  his  life,  from  some  other  enemy  than  the  law? 

Before  telling  Mr.  Dariza  that  he  had  received  a 
message,  he  rode  to  King's  Haven  again.  He  found 
Job  Spark  in  an  agreeable  mood.  After  ordering 
materials  for  the  famous  punch,  they  retired  to  the 
private  parlour. 

"  Master  Spark,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something 
about  the  man  who  sent  that  letter  to  me,"  said 
Francis. 

53 


54  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Put  the  question,  Master  Drurie,  and  maybe 
I'll  answer  ye,"  replied  the  mariner. 

"Is  he  in  trouble?" 

This  was  evidently  a  hard  shot  for  Master  Spark. 
He  pulled  at  his  long  moustaches,  glared  around  the 
room,  and  wiped  his  brow  with  a  huge  mahogany 
hand. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  ye  might  call  it  trouble  —  and, 
again,  ye  might  not.  He  was  safe  enough  when  I 
left  him." 

"  What  work  does  he  do  ?  Is  he  following  the  sea?  " 
asked  Drurie. 

"  Aye,  ye  might  call  it  that.  He  be's  a  fine  sailor, 
be's  Hodge." 

"Hodge!"  exclaimed  the  other  unguardedly. 

"  Aye,  that  be  your  friend's  name,  I  take  it."  The 
old  man  looked  at  the  young  man  with  a  sort  of  taunting 
humour  in  his  eyes. 

Francis  laughed.  He  read  the  old  fellow  like  a 
book. 

"  You  are  sharp,"  he  said.  "  But  you  are  honest, 
and  so  am  I.  Hodge  may  be  his  name  now;  but,  as 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  he  had  another  once.  What 
that  was  I'll  take  it  for  granted  that  you  know  — 
and  say  no  more  about  it." 

Master  Spark  tried  his  best  to  look  as  if  he  knew 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride          55 

a  great  deal  more  than  he  really  did,  and  to  hide  his 
curiosity.  All  this  was  plain  as  print  to  Francis. 

Spark  nodded  his  head  sagely. 

"  It  do  beat  all,"  he  said.  "  How  has  the  mighty 
fell  from  his  seat,  as  the  sayin*  is." 

"  It  was  no  fault  of  our  friend's,"  said  Drurie. 
"  He  acted  just  as  you  or  I  would  have  acted  in  the 
same  place.  He  was  insulted  by  a  rascal,  and  gave 
him  the  lie  fair  in  his  teeth.  So  he  was  asked  to  fight. 
It  was  as  honest  a  fight  as  two  men  ever  engaged  in  — 
a  doctor,  and  seconds,  and  everything  shipshape. 
Our  friend  was  the  better  shot  of  the  two,  but  the 
other  man  belonged  to  a  more  powerful  family.  So 
the  poor  fellow  had  to  run  for  it,  and  change  his  name, 
and  hide  like  a  dog.  We  have  thought  him  dead  until 
now.  But  all  this,  of  course,  is  old  history  to  you." 

"Aye,  ye  might  well  say  so,"  replied  the  mariner. 
But  it  was  not.  He  had  known  that  the  lad  called 
Hodge  was  a  gentleman,  but  had  never  been  able  to 
learn  anything  of  his  past.  The  old  sailor's  heart  was 
warmed  by  Drurie's  trust. 

By  this  time  the  punch  was  ready. 

"  What  manner  of  place  is  this  'Cat  and  Rat'?" 
asked  Drurie. 

"  A  tricky  place,"  said  the  mariner.  "  Not  just 
the  place  for  gentlemen  with  rings  on  their  fingers  to 


56  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

fall  asleep  in.  Aye,  sir,  ye  may  put  it  down  as  a  chancey 
place  —  but  don't  ye  name  me  for  sayin'  it.  No  harm 
in  sayin'  it,  mind  ye  —  but  mum's  the  word,  for  all 
that." 

"  From  this,  I  gather  that  our  friend  is  in  a  rough 
and  dangerous  way  of  business,"  said  Drurie  inquir- 
ingly. 

Spark  leaned  close  to  him. 

"  Ye  have  the  right  o'  it,"  he  whispered.  "  Rough 
and  dangerous,  ye  may  well  say.  If  ye  have  any  hold 
on  him,  sir,  get  him  clear  o'  that  crew.  Not  as  how 
I  mean  to  say  any  harm  o'  anybody  —  but  a  hint  be 
as  good  as  a  handspike  to  a  sharp  one  like  ye." 

Francis  grasped  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  frankness,"  he  said.  "  Not 
a  word  of  it  shall  go  any  further ;  but  I  shall  not  forget 
your  hint  or  your  kindness.  I  hope  to  make  a  voyage 
to  Bristol  in  the  spring." 

Francis  Drurie  went  over  to  Hopeland  that  evening, 
after  his  second  talk  with  the  master  of  the  Golden 
Crown.  He  had  avoided  the  place  of  late.  He  found 
Isobel  alone  hi  the  hall,  seated  beside  a  fire  of  hickory 
logs.  He  looked  at  her  chin,  and  then  at  the  top  of  her 
head,  when  they  shook  hands.  He  would  not  allow 
himself  the  mournful  pleasure  of  looking  into  her  eyes. 
He  was  doing  his  best  to  forget  about  her  eyes. 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride          57 

"  You  are  ashamed  of  yourself  —  and  well  you  need 
be,"  she  said. 

"  Ashamed  ?  "  he  repeated,  honestly  puzzled.  His 
glance  met  hers. 

"  Why  have  you  deserted  us?  It  is  five  days  since 
you  were  here,"  she  said.  Then  she  blushed  suddenly 
and  returned  to  her  seat. 

Francis  felt  that  he  was  being  made  a  fool  of.  She 
had  counted  the  days  since  his  last  visit!  What  right 
had  she  to  do  that?  And  why  did  she  blush?  It 
did  not  look  to  him  like  a  blush  of  guilt  —  which,  of 
course,  it  should  have  been.  What  right  had  she  to 
play  with  him  after  driving  him  away?  He  stared  at 
her  gravely  until  her  eyelids  drooped. 

"  You  used  to  come  to  see  me  every  day,"  she  said 
gently. 

"  And  now  John  comes  every  day.  I  thought  that 
was  enough,"  he  said.  There  was  a  ring  in  his  voice 
that  he  had  not  intended.  She  looked  up  quickly,  and 
down  again  like  a  flash. 

"  You  are  rude,"  she  said.  "  You  must  have  lost 
your  manners  while  fighting  in  the  wilderness." 

"  I  certainly  lost  something  while  I  was  away  — 
something  more  important  than  my  poor  manners," 
replied  Francis.  Then,  conscience- stricken  at  the  speech 
-  "  I  beg  your  pardon  for  speaking  so,"  he  said. 


58  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  What  did  you  lose  ?  "  asked  the  girl  without  turning 
her  head,  and  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

The  young  man  stared  at  her,  astonished  and 
angry.  At  that  moment,  to  his  great  relief,  Mr.  Dariza 
entered  the  hall.  He  walked  forward  and  met  the 
old  gentleman  half-way. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  in  private,  sir?  "  he  asked  in 
a  low  voice. 

Mr.  Dariza  glanced  inquiringly  in  his  daughter's 
direction,  but  she  was  gazing  intently  into  the  fire. 

"  Speak  to  me,  Frank  ?  Certainly,  certainly.  This 
way,  if  you  please,"  he  said  in  a  very  evident  fluster. 

Francis  followed  him  to  the  library,  puzzled  at  the 
uneasiness  of  his  manner. 

Mr.  Dariza  closed  the  library  door,  waved  the 
visitor  to  a  seat,  and  sank  into  one  himself  with  the  air 
of  a  man  spent  with  exhaustion.  A  red  spot  flamed 
in  the  centre  of  each  thin,  yellow  cheek,  and  his  black 
eyes  shone  with  a  feverish  brightness. 

"  You  are  ill,  sir,"  cried  Drurie  anxiously,  rising 
from  his  chair. 

The  master  of  Hopeland  motioned  him  back. 

"  It  is  of  the  spirit,  dear  lad.  Sit  down,  I  beg  of 
you,"  he  said. 

But  Francis  stepped  closer. 

"  I  have  heard  from  overseas,"  he  said.     "  I  have 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride  59 

heard,  in  a  roundabout  way,  that  one  whom  we  love  — • 
and  thought  lost  —  is  alive  and  prospering."  He  talked 
very  fast,  anxious  to  tell  all  —  all  that  he  could  tell  — 
without  startling  Dariza.  "  He  is  not  in  need  of 
money.  He  is  in  the  city  of  Bristol,  very  comfortable, 
but  still  in  hiding.  He  is  known  by  an  assumed  name; 
but,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  old  trouble  will  soon  be 
forgotten,  and  then  he  will  come  home  and  live  fear- 
lessly. But,  until  then,  he  cannot  be  too  careful.  He 
wants  nobody  but  you  and  me  to  know  that  he  still 
lives." 

Dariza  looked  dazed. 

"  Of  whom  are  you  talking  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Do  you 
speak  of  my  son  —  of  Dick  ?  "  He  sat  straight  in 
his  chair,  only  to  sink  weakly  back  again.  His  frail 
body  shook  as  if  with  the  palsy. 

"  Yes,  Dick  is  alive  and  well,"  replied  Francis. 
Then,  hastening  from  the  room,  he  returned  in  a 
moment  with  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water.  Mr.  Dariza 
swallowed  a  little  of  it,  and  then  pushed  the  glass 
away  from  him.  He  pulled  himself  forward  in  his 
chair. 

"How  did  the  letter  come  to  you?"  he  asked 
faintly. 

"  By  the  hand  of  an  old  shipmaster  named  Spark," 
replied  Drurie. 


60  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Show  it  to  me,"  said  the  other.  "  Let  me  read  it, 
lad,  with  my  own  eyes." 

Now,  Francis  had  guarded  against  this  by  making 
a  copy  of  the  letter,  for  his  own  use  in  the  future,  and 
burning  the  original.  What  the  old  gentleman  would 
have  thought  of  the  mention  of  the  low  tavern  and  the 
purple-marked  keeper,  he  dared  not  contemplate.  That 
he  would  have  suspected  the  worst,  and  suffered  more 
than  at  news  of  the  lad's  death,  there  could  be  no 
doubt. 

"  I  burned  the  letter,  for  fear  that  a  servant  might 
get  hold  of  it,"  said  Francis,  lying  coolly  in  a  good 
cause.  "It  is  so  evident  that  Dick  wants  to  keep  his 
existence  a  close  secret  that  I  dared  not  take  the  slight- 
est risk  of  having  the  letter  go  astray." 

Mr.  Dariza  gazed  at  the  young  man  for  a  long  time; 
but,  as  the  other  returned  the  gaze  without  so  much  as 
the  flicker  of  an  eyelash,  he  said  at  last : 

"  I  believe  you  did  right,  Frank  —  whatever  it  was 
you  feared.  Perhaps  you  burned  the  letter  for  Dick's 
sake,  and,  again,  it  may  have  been  for  my  sake." 

"  I  burned  it  for  all  our  sakes,"  replied  Francis. 
"  It  contained  minute  directions  for  finding  him  in 
Bristol;  and  if  these  were  to  fall  into  untrustworthy 
hands  —  or  unfriendly  hands  —  he  would  be  in  con- 
stant danger  of  his  life." 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride          61 

Mr.  Dariza  nodded  reflectively.  He  had  com- 
pletely regained  his  composure. 

"  But  what  of  the  fellow  who  brought  the  letter  across 
the  sea  ?  Was  there  not  great  risk  in  that  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  The  seal  was  unbroken.  Spark  is  a  rough  but 
trusty  man,  I  take  it,"  answered  Francis. 

"  I  must  talk  to  him,"  said  Dariza.  "  I  want  to 
hear,  from  one  who  has  seen  it  with  his  own  eyes,  that 
my  boy  is  alive  and  happy." 

"  I  have  talked  twice  with  Spark,"  said  young 
Drurie;  "  and,  though  I  do  not  doubt  his  trust- 
worthiness, I  know  that  Dick  has  not  taken  him 
into  his  entire  confidence  concerning  his  past  and  his 
family.  Spark  knows  that  Dick  is  a  gentleman,  and  the 
victim  of  injustice  —  but  nothing  more. 

"  Once  he  learned  that  Dick  is  your  son,  the  whole 
story  would  be  his  for  the  asking.  Any  one  in  King's 
Haven,  where  his  vessel  is  lying,  would  give  him  all 
the  particulars.  And  who  can  say  what  he  would  tell 
in  his  cups  ?  If  Dick  himself  has  not  trusted  him  with 
the  secret  of  his  past,  what  right  have  we  to  do  so? 
And  I  am  positive  that  Dick  has  not.  The  fellow  is 
even  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  he  was  once  an  officer  on 
a  king's  ship." 

"  I   believe   you   are   right   again,   Frank,"   replied 


62  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Mr.  Dariza.  "  But  find  out  all  you  can,  lad.  I  shall 
be  at  peace  with  this  world  I  am  leaving  if  only  I 
can  feel  assured  that  the  boy  is  not  in  suffering  and  has 
a  chance  of  attaining  happiness." 

"  I  questioned  the  mariner,"  said  Francis.  "  Dick 
is  not  suffering,  I  am  sure;  and  his  identity  is  well 
hidden.  In  his  letter  he  says  he  is  in  need  of  nothing 
save  the  sight  of  an  old  friend's  face.  If  he  is  still  in 
England,  I  shall  see  him  in  the  spring.  Spark  tells 
me  that  he  follows  the  sea  for  a  living,  and  is  a  splendid 
sailor.  I  gathered  that  he  sails  only  on  short  voyages, 
hi  small,  coastwise  vessels." 

Mr.  Dariza  got  up  slowly  from  his  chair  and  un- 
locked a  drawer  hi  his  desk.  From  this  he  took  a 
purse,  which  he  handed,  without  opening,  to  Francis. 
It  was  a  large  purse,  of  stout  leather,  and  full  and 
heavy. 

"  Here  are  a  hundred  sovereigns,"  he  said.  "  Please 
give  it  to  the  shipmaster  as  if  a  gift  from  yourself,  and 
tell  him  that  half  of  it  is  for  himself  and  half  for  Dick. 
Dick  may  not  be  in  need  of  money;  but  I  think  a  little 
extra  is  always  welcome  to  a  young  man,  whether  he 
be  an  officer  on  a  ship  of  war  or  a  common  sailor  on 
board  a  coasting  vessel." 

He  sank  into  his  chair  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his 
hands. 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride          63 

Francis  Drurie  soon  made  another  journey  to  King's 
Haven.  When  he  gave  the  fat  purse  to  Master  Spark, 
with  a  brief  word  as  to  how  the  contents  were  to  be 
divided,  the  old  man's  eyes  glistened  with  the  unmis- 
takable sheen  of  greed. 

He  opened  it  and  peeped  within.  He  pulled  out  a 
golden  coin  and  pinched  it  between  his  teeth. 

"  How  d'ye  know,  mate,  but  what  I'll  keep  the 
whole  hundred  yellow  boys  for  meself  ?  "  he  asked  with 
a  leer. 

Francis  smiled. 

"  You  cannot  frighten  me,"  he  said.  "  I  know 
you  as  if  I  had  lived  with  you  all  my  life.  You  are  far 
more  likely  to  give  our  friend  the  whole  purseful  than 
keep  it  all  to  yourself." 

Master  Spark  looked  confused.  He  fortified  himself 
with  a  glass  of  punch. 

"  Aye,  mate,  ye  be  hi  the  right  o'  it  there.  Job 
Spark  would  never  rob  a  friend,  even  if  he  hadn't  a 
single  flat  un  to  buy  his  grog  with." 

The  weeks  wore  along;  and  the  Golden  Crown, 
tight  and  sound  aloft  and  alow,  and  freighted  with 
corn  and  tobacco,  sailed  away  from  King's  Haven. 
The  months  wore  along;  and  early  in  March  invita- 
tions went  out  for  a  great  ball  at  Admiral's  Pride.  This 
was  to  be  in  honour  of  Francis,  who  had  made  his 


64  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

plans  to  sail  for  Bristol  some  time  about  the  middle 
of  the  month. 

Since  his  visit  to  Hopeland  to  tell  Mr.  Dariza  the 
news  of  his  son,  Francis  had  studiously  avoided  Isobel. 
He  did  not  find  this  an  easy  thing  to  do.  It  went  sorely 
against  his  inclination,  and,  which  was  worse,  it 
caused  comment  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Fairwood  —  open 
comment.  But  the  poor  lad  could  not  trust  his  self- 
control.  He  knew  that  if  the  girl  acted  again  as  she 
had  on  that  memorable  day,  he  would  cast  to  the  winds 
all  caution  and  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  she 
was  betrothed  to  John.  He  saw  his  duty  in  the  matter 
as  plain  as  a  pikestaff;  and  he  would  do  it,  though  the 
heavens  fell. 

But  IsobeFs  behaviour  caused  him  days  of  worry. 
He  could  think  of  no  reason  for  it  —  and  yet  he  knew, 
in  the  depths  of  his  heart,  that  she  would  not  act  so 
for  idle  amusement.  His  heart  cherished  her  image 
and  defended  her;  but  his  brain  told  him  that  she  was 
a  flirt.  He  listened  to  his  brain  during  the  hours 
of  daylight  and  to  his  heart  at  night.  He  often  felt 
very  much  inclined  to  kick  Master  John. 

The  ball  was  to  be  held  on  the  sixteenth  day  of  the 
month.  On  the  morning  of  the  tenth  the  brig  Thrush 
arrived  in  King's  Haven.  This  was  the  vessel  in  which 
Francis  was  to  make  the  voyage  to  Bristol.  She  was  a 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride          65 

full  week  earlier  than  expected;  but,  as  the  date  of  the 
ball  could  not  be  changed,  her  master  grumblingly  con- 
sented to  wait  until  the  seventeenth  before  heading  east- 
ward again.  As  soon  as  her  cargo  of  mixed  wares  — 
silks,  broadcloths,  laces,  firearms,  wigs,  small  swords, 
and  other  fancy  gear  from  England  —  was  out  of 
her  hold,  and  the  bales  and  hogsheads  of  tobacco 
under  the  hatches,  Francis  put  his  luggage  aboard. 
He  was  keen  to  get  to  sea  and  begin  his  adventures. 
Amid  dangers  and  new  scenes  he  would  forget  his 
worries. 

The  night  of  the  ball  arrived.  The  Bullers  came 
all  the  way  from  Indian  Creek,  the  ladies  in  an  ark- 
like,  springless  coach  drawn  by  four  horses,  and  the 
gentlemen  mounted.  The  Sprigs  came  from  Sprig 
Towers,  twenty-six  miles  away.  Sir  Peter  Nash, 
though  little  better  than  a  confirmed  invalid,  arrived 
in  good  time,  with  only  one  foot  in  a  stirrup,  the  other 
bandaged  to  such  a  size  that  it  would  not  go  in  the 
iron.  There  were  dozens  of  other  fashionables,  from 
near  and  far  —  the  Fairfaxes,  the  Darlings,  the  Plums, 
and  so  on,  and  so  on.  There  were  old,  middle-aged  and 
young;  red  and  sallow,  ugly,  ordinary  and  beautiful; 
clever,  common-sensed  and  stupid.  But  of  all  that 
were  beautiful,  Isobel  Dariza  was  the  most  beautiful. 

Every  room  of  the  ground  floor  of  the  great  house 


66  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

hummed  with  the  business  of  pleasure  —  the  singing 
of  the  fiddles,  the  swish  of  gliding  feet,  the  rippling 
of  laughter,  and  the  fine  clash  of  silver  and  glass  in  the 
dining-room.  About  the  kitchen  and  offices  the  negroes 
clustered.  In  the  stables  the  horses  of  the  guests 
munched  contentedly. 

Francis  Drurie  cautioned  his  heart  not  to  be  a  fool, 
and  asked  Isobel  Dariza  to  dance  with  him. 

"  You  know  that  I  cannot  refuse  you  hi  your  father's 
house,"  she  said. 

He  had  nothing  to  say  to  that.  He  had  a  right  to 
this  dance,  and  he  would  have  it.  He  had  so  few  rights 
that  he  was  determined  to  make  the  most  of  them. 
To-morrow  he  would  be  on  the  sea.  To-night  he 
would  snatch  what  pleasure  he  could  out  of  a  very 
sad  affair.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  all  that  stir 
and  light  and  merriment,  it  was  as  if  they  were  the 
only  real  people  in  the  world.  She  was  very  close  to 
him.  She  looked  up,  fairly  into  his  eyes. 

"  Why  have  you  deserted  me?  "  she  asked. 

There  was  neither  coquetry  nor  anger  in  her  voice, 
nor  any  pretence  of  indifference. 

"  Because  I  cannot  choose  a  middle  course,"  he 
said  quietly.  He  would  tell  the  truth,  since  she  had 
asked  for  it,  and  have  done.  "  I  must  either  love  you 
or  keep  away  from  you.  I  am  a  poor  hand  at  play- 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride          67 

acting.  So,  as  you  are  to  marry  John,  I  have  kept 
away  from  you.  It  has  not  been  easy,  I  assure  you." 

"Why  do  you  think  I  am  to  marry  John?"  she 
asked. 

Her  wonderful  eyes  were  still  raised  to  his,  open 
and  gleaming  to  their  bright,  dark  depths. 

"  It  was  told  to  me;  and  John  accepted  my  con- 
gratulations," he  replied,  his  voice  low-pitched  and  in 
splendid  control. 

"It  is  not  true,"  she  said  with  restraint  that  meant 
more  than  a  passionate  outbreak.  "  I  shall  never  marry 
John.  I  have  told  him  so  many  times." 

"  My  faith!"  exclaimed  Francis  softly. 

Now  they  found  themselves  in  a  little  room  off  the 
library,  occupied  by  two  old  ladies  and  two  old  gentle- 
men, who  were  playing  cards  very  intently.  The 
only  candles  were  on  the  centre  of  the  card-table; 
the  corners  of  the  room  were  left  in  shadow. 

"  It  may  be,"  whispered  Francis  huskily,  "  that 
you  —  that  you  care  a  little  for  some  one  else." 

He  could  not  hear  her  reply.  He  leaned  closer,  so 
that  he  could  see  her  face. 

"  I  have  loved  you  —  more  than  life  itself  —  ever 
since  I  came  home  from  the  West,"  he  said. 

Again,  he  could  not  hear  her  reply.  Her  face, 
though  very  near,  was  turned  away. 


68  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Isobel!  "  he  whispered. 

At  that  she  turned  to  him,  and  he  saw  that  her 
wonderful  eyes  were  gleaming  with  tears. 

What  marvel  was  this!  And  the  card-players  still 
gazed  at  their  cards! 

"  You  must  not  cry,"  he  said  tenderly.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  hurt  you.  I  shall  go  away  to-morrow  — 
and  never  trouble  you  again." 

"  Don't  you  know?"  she  whispered.  "  Don't  you 
see  how  I  love  you!  I  have  loved  you  longer  than  you 
have  loved  me,  dear." 

He  drew  her  to  him,  and  touched  his  lips  to  her  lips 
and  eyes  and  brow.  And  the  card-players  did  not  look 
up  from  their  cards! 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  BREAKFAST   VISIT 

THE  last  dance  was  finished.  A  few  of  the  guests 
had  departed,  and  the  rest  were  asleep  under  the 
broad  roof  of  Admiral's  Pride.  The  lower  rooms 
were  in  silence  and  darkness,  but  here  and  there  a 
candle  shone  in  the  window  of  an  upper  chamber. 

Francis  had  moved,  for  that  night,  to  a  little  room 
in  the  attic.  On  the  next  night  he  would  sleep  still 
farther  away  from  his  accustomed  bed;  but  he  gave 
this  no  thought.  He  took  off  his  laced  coat  and  silken 
breeches  and  packed  them  in  the  leather  bag,  which 
were  the  only  articles  of  his  luggage  not  already  aboard 
the  Thrush.  Then  he  dressed  in  a  serviceable  suit 
of  blue.  By  this  time  the  March  dawn  was  blue  against 
the  window. 

Francis  extinguished  the  candle,  and,  his  riding- 
boots  in  his  hand,  went  silently  from  the  room.  He 
passed  down  the  narrow,  uncarpeted  stairs  on  tip- 
toe. 

At  the  closed  door  of  John's  room  he  paused  for  a 
69 


70  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

moment.  "  No.  He  is  my  brother.  I  will  not  quarrel 
with  him,"  he  muttered. 

He  descended  to  the  lower  floor,  and  let  himself 
into  the  garden  by  a  side-door.  There  were  no  leaves 
on  the  rose-bushes.  The  whole  world  was  cloaked 
in  cold,  gray-blue  shadows.  The  earth  was  soft  and 
cold  underfoot.  Francis  pulled  on  his  boots  and  went 
over  to  the  stables.  A  watch-dog  got  to  its  feet  and 
barked.  At  the  first  sound  of  the  familiar  voice  it 
lay  down  again,  silenced. 

One  of  the  grooms  on  night  duty  opened  a  stable 
door  and  held  a  lantern  over  his  head.  In  his  other 
hand  he  grasped  a  stout  whip. 

"  Barnaby,"  said  Francis,  "  I  want  you  to  saddle 
Jumper  for  me  as  quietly  as  you  can." 

"  Yesser.    Yes,  Master  Frank,"  replied  the  groom. 

When  Jumper  was  led  out,  and  Francis  mounted, 
Barnaby  said: 

"  The  young  lady  was  like  a  angel,  Master  Frank. 
All  us  black  folks  says  so.  An'  all  us  black  folks  be 
infernal  overjoyed  to  see  that  God  has  sent  under- 
standin'  to  ye,  Master  Frank.  Even  Barnaby  seed 
what  ye  was  blind  to,  sir.  Yesser,  I  was  near  cryin', 
sometimes.  An'  her  a  angel,  if  there  was  ever  one,  an' 
not  a  lady  in  Virginny  to  name  alongside  her.  Yesser." 

"  You  are  right,  Barnaby,"  said  Francis. 


A  Breakfast  Visit  71 

"  Yesser.  But  why  does  ye  sail  to  furren  parts, 
sir  ?  "  returned  the  groom. 

"  I  wonder  the  same  thing.  But  it  is  my  duty. 
She  will  not  let  me  shirk  my  duty."  He  pressed  a  gold 
coin  into  the  groom's  hand.  "  You  are  a  good  boy, 
Barnaby.  If  ever  you  see  the  young  lady  in  danger, 
try  to  help  her.  Your  arm  is  stronger  than  many  a 
gentleman's,  lad. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour  or  so,"  he  said  finally, 
and  trotted  away. 

Francis  Drurie  cantered  down  the  avenue  and  out 
to  the  highway.  His  brain  worked  intently,  back  and 
forth,  back  and  forth,  over  the  wonderful  thing  that 
had  come  to  him,  and  over  the  bitter  path  to  which  duty 
pointed. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  the  cold  agony 
of  fear.  It  gripped  him  like  the  pain  of  a  wound.  He 
felt  the  ache  of  it  in  his  heart  and  lungs.  Through 
and  through  his  fevered  brain  passed  menacing  shapes 
• —  shapes  of  dangers  threatening  the  woman  he  loved. 
He  gave  no  thought  to  the  risks  of  the  sea,  but  a  vision 
of  the  gray  distances  that  would  lie  between  her  and 
his  protection  weighted  his  spirit. 

Yet  she  wanted  him  to  go.  She  had  made  light  of 
his  fears.  "  Nothing  will  harm  me,"  she  had  said. 
"  I  shall  long  for  you,  day  and  night,  but  that  is  the 


72  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

part  of  a  woman  who  loves  a  man  worth  loving.  Though 
I  fear  that  I  shall  not  have  strength  to  let  you  leave  me 
a  second  time." 

He  brooded  over  the  words  that  she  had  said  to 
him  a  few  hours  ago,  with  her  cheek  against  his  shoul- 
der. Surely,  if  fate  held  any  danger  for  her,  her  heart 
would  have  warned  her.  He  sent  Jumper  forward  at 
a  gallop.  He  outran  fear. 

What  could  hurt  her  in  this  peaceful  place?  Her 
father  would  protect  her.  Mr.  Fairwood  loved  her  as 
if  she  were  his  own  daughter.  Every  man  and  woman, 
black  and  white,  gentle  and  simple,  on  three  estates, 
would  defend  her  if  any  danger  appeared.  She  pos- 
sessed health,  youth,  and  wealth.  He  had  been  a  fool 
to  worry. 

And  what  was  this  voyage  of  his,  when  bravely 
considered  ?  It  would  be  a  thing  of  the  past  in  a  year's 
time.  She  had  lived  eighteen  years  without  an  acci- 
dent ;  then,  why  fear  for  her  hi  the  next  twelve  months  ? 

He  turned  and  galloped  back  along  the  way  he  had 
come.  He  passed  the  great  gates  of  Admiral's  Pride, 
and  held  on  down  the  highway,  riding  at  a  clipping 
pace.  Jumper  needed  no  urging.  But  now  the  upper 
rim  of  the  sun  was  just  showing  above  the  eastern 
horizon,  and  the  world  was  all  afire  with  azure  and 
young  gold.  Up  a  gentle  hill  and  down  the  other 


A  Breakfast  Visit  73 

side  of  it  he  rode,  round  a  long  curve  and  past  the  gates 
of  Fairwood  Manor.  Half  a  mile  beyond  this  he  drew 
rein  and  dismounted. 

Here  was  a  humble  gateway,  the  squat  stone  posts 
flanked  by  circular  groves  of  yew.  He  opened  the 
gate,  led  Jumper  within,  and  hitched  him  under  one 
of  the  trees  of  the  grove.  As  he  walked  up  the  short 
avenue  that  led  to  the  house  of  Hopeland  his  breath 
caught  hi  his  throat,  and  he  could  hear  the  drumming 
of  eager  blood  in  his  head. 

All  was  quiet  about  the  house,  though  it  was  bathed 
in  light  from  its  foundations  to  its  clustered  chimneys. 
Francis  moved  to  the  middle  of  the  lawn,  turned  and 
gazed  up  at  a  certain  window.  It  was  curtained  and 
lifeless.  Of  course  he  had  expected  nothing  else. 

For  all  that,  a  sudden  chill  crossed  his  spirit.  So 
he  stood  for  several  minutes,  gazing  helplessly  and 
longingly  up  at  the  blind  window.  Suddenly  his  heart 
told  him  to  turn  before  his  ear  gave  him  any  warning, 
and  turning,  with  open  arms,  he  caught  Isobel  to  his 
breast. 

She  wore  a  great,  red  cloak  over  her  ballroom 
finery.  Her  firm,  young  arms  were  bare.  He  felt  the 
cool,  yet  glowing,  touch  of  them  against  his  neck. 

"  Why  are  you  standing  here  ?  What  did  you  expect 
to  see  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 


74  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  I  did  not  want  to  sleep,"  he  replied.  "  I  rode 
until  sunrise. 

"  Then  I  came  here  to  look  at  your  window." 

"  And  I  did  not  want  to  sleep,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
been  wandering  about  the  poor,  leafless  gardens  since 
the  first  peep  of  dawn." 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  caught  cold,"  he  whispered 
anxiously. 

She  laughed  at  that,  but  kissed  him  for  it. 

"  Tell  me,  boy  —  tell  me  why  you  did  not  want  to 
sleep,"  she  murmured,  nestling  close  to  him,  with  her 
face  against  his  shoulder,  and  one  hand  grasping  the 
breast  of  his  coat. 

He  was  about  to  reply  that  his  time  in  Virginia  was 
far  too  short  to  throw  away  in  sleep,  but  he  would  try 
to  forget  that  for  the  moment. 

"If  I  had  slept  I  should  have  dreamed,"  he  said; 
"  and  one  cannot  control  one's  dreams.  So  I  stayed 
awake  to  think  of  you." 

"  And  that  is  why  I  stayed  awake,  too,"  she  said. 
"  And  I  came  out,  that  there  should  be  only  one  wall, 
instead  of  two,  between  us.  And  think;  there  was  no 
wall  at  all!  We  were  both  out  in  the  gray  dawn  —  and 
we  did  not  know  it." 

"  We  know  it  now,"  replied  Francis,  and  proved 
it. 


A  Breakfast  Visit  75 

They  walked  down  the  avenue  to  where  Jumper 
stood  patiently  under  a  tree. 

"  Dear,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  thinking  hard  this 
morning.  If  you  want  me  to  stay  in  Virginia,  I  will 
stay  —  aye,  with  delight." 

"  You  must  not  say  that,"  she  replied,  in  a  very 
small  voice.  "  We  must  not  think  only  of  our  happi- 
ness of  to-day.  This  love  of  ours  is  for  all  our  lifetime 
—  and  this  first  little  year  will  be  only  a  small  part  of 
that.  I  shall  be  brave,  dear.  When  you  return,  dearest, 
how  I  shall  cherish  you!  " 

"  God  bless  you,"  whispered  Francis  brokenly. 
He  held  her  close.  "  Tell  me  —  do  you  feel  any  fear 
of  the  future?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  she  replied.  "  I  prayed  this  morning,  and 
suddenly  fear  left  me;  and  I  knew  that,  though  seas 
and  lands  separate  us  for  a  little  while,  we  shall  live 
our  lives  together.  It  was  as  if  a  voice  had  said  it  to 
my  soul! " 

The  effect  on  the  young  soldier  was  instant  and 
wonderful.  Had  an  angel  in  celestial  robes  appeared 
before  him  and  told  him  that  his  love  was  safe,  his 
feeling  of  joy  and  security  could  have  been  no  greater. 

They  walked  back  to  the  house,  hand  in  hand. 
By  this  time  the  servants  were  moving  about  the  house. 

"  Wait  here  on  the  gallery,"  said  Isobel.     "  I  will 


76  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

slip  in  and  up  to  my  room.  In  ten  minutes  you  must 
pound  on  the  door,  and  say  that  you  have  come  to 
breakfast.  I  shall  be  ready  to  entertain  you  until 
breakfast-time  —  and  that  is  not  for  hours  yet." 

"  And  I  must  speak  to  your  father,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.  Speak  to  him  during  breakfast.  He  loves 
you,  dear."  Then,  quick  as  turning  round,  she  was 
gone. 

Francis  stood  very  still  for  a  minute.  Then  he  began 
to  contemplate  the  door,  as  if  selecting  a  spot  to  ham- 
mer. 

A  boy  came  whistling  around  the  hedge  from  the 
direction  of  the  kitchen. 

Francis  halted  him  with  a  shout.  "  Come  here, 
Sambo,"  he  called. 

"  Lordamercy!  Master  Frank!"  exclaimed  the 
boy. 

"  You'll  find  Jumper  hitched  to  a  tree  down  by 
the  big  gates,"  said  Francis.  "  Ride  him  home,  and 
tell  them  that  I  am  breakfasting  with  Mr.  Dariza. 
Give  the  message  to  Barnaby  to  take  up  to  the  house." 

"  Yesser,"  said  the  astonished  boy. 

"  Hold  —  here  is  a  yellow  one  for  you,  Sambo," 
added  the  lover,  tossing  a  thick  coin  on  the  lawn. 

Then  he  turned  and  applied  the  butt  of  his  whip 
to  the  door,  with  the  air  of  one  making  up  lost  time. 


A  Breakfast  Visit  77 

The  door  was  snatched  open  by  Mr.  Dariza's  ancient 
black  butler.  His  wrinkled  face  was  quite  gray  with 
fright. 

"Hi,  Master  Frank!  Be  some  one  dead  over  to 
Admiral's  Pride  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Why,  no,  Jake;  I  can't  say  there  is,"  replied 
Francis,  somewhat  flustered.  "  I  just  came  over  to 
see  —  to  see  your  master." 

Jake  bowed  him  in.  He  knew  what  a  visit  from  a 
Drurie  demanded,  whatever  the  hour.  Yet  he  shot  a 
furtive  glance  at  the  young  gentleman,  suspecting  that 
the  refreshments  at  the  ball  had  been  too  much  for 
him. 

Yes,  he  was  right.  Master  Frank's  eyes  were  shining 
in  an  unmistakable  way,  and  his  cheeks  were  flushed. 
He  was  about  to  usher  his  visitor  into  the  library  and 
go  to  the  cook  for  advice,  when  down  the  stairs  came 
the  mistress  of  the  house  herself. 

"  Here  am  Master  Frank,  a  makin'  a  call  on  the 
gin'ral,"  announced  the  butler. 

He  did  not  wait  to  see  how  his  young  mistress  re- 
ceived the  statement  —  or  the  caller  —  but  retired 
to  the  dining-room,  and  congratulated  himself  on 
being  very  neatly  out  of  an  awkward  corner. 

The  lovers  greeted  each  other  as  if  they  had  not 
already  met. 


78  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

When  Mr.  Dariza  came  down-stairs,  two  hours 
later,  he  tried  to  look  as  if  he  felt  no  surprise  at  finding 
Francis  Drurie  and  his  daughter  calmly  awaiting  him 
in  the  breakfast-room.  He  greeted  Drurie  with,  quiet 
cordiality. 

"  Frank  has  come  over  to  have  breakfast  with  us," 
explained  Isobel.  "  And  that  is  very  good  of  him; 
for  this  is  his  —  his  last  day  in  Virginia  for  —  some 
time."  Her  voice  was  a  trifle  uncertain. 

Her  father  looked  at  her  with  tender  inquiry.  "  Yes, 
it  is  good  of  him,"  he  said.  He  smiled  at  Francis. 
"  It  is  some  time  since  you  last  honoured  us,  lad,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  wondered  if  anything  serious  could  be 
the  matter  —  if  anything  had  injured  our  old  friendship. 
I  am  glad  to  see  that  my  fears  were  groundless.  I 
consider  it  very  kind  and  polite  of  you  to  spare  us  a 
part  of  your  last  morning  at  home."  While  he  spoke, 
he  kept  his  bright  gaze  on  the  young  man's  face. 

Francis  murmured  a  few  vague  words  in  reply. 
He  knew  that  his  cheeks  were  red  as  fire.  He  felt  that 
Dariza  could  see  his  mind. 

The  breakfast-table  was  small  and  round.  Francis 
found  that  without  any  effort  he  could  touch  IsobePs 
feet  with  one  of  his.  The  thrill  he  received  upon 
making  this  discovery  was  wonderful,  even  without 
taking  into  consideration  the  thickness  of  his  riding- 


A  Breakfast  Visit  79 

boot.  Isobel  did  not  draw  her  feet  under  her  chair. 
In  fact,  she  advanced  them  in  his  direction,  at  the 
same  time  opening  her  eyes  at  him  in  a  way  that  seemed 
to  dim  the  morning  sunlight  with  a  finer  radiance. 
Lord,  what  things  they  are  —  love  and  youth ! 

Breakfast  was  half  over  by  the  time  Francis  had 
himself  sufficiently  in  hand  to  make  the  first  move  on 
Mr.  Dariza.  The  butler  was  out  of  the  way.  Now 
was  his  time. 

"  I  wish  to  ask  you,  sir  —  that  is,  I  want  to  know 
if  you  —  "he  began.  He  paused,  staring  at  his  host 
with  a  look  of  scared  bewilderment  on  his  face.  The 
thing  was  more  difficult  than  he  had  anticipated. 
Both  his  wit  and  his  breath  had  failed  him. 

Mr.  Dariza  bowed  gravely. 

Encouraged,  Francis  began  again:  "I  want  your 
consent,  sir,  to  —  to  —  to  ask  Isobel  to  marry  me." 

Mr.  Dariza  smiled  gently.  "  It  would  have  been 
more  correct,  dear  lad,  to  have  asked  me  in  private," 
he  said. 

"  But  my  time  is  so  short,"  replied  Francis  plead- 
ingly. "  I  did  not  know  until  last  night  that  I  had  any 
chance  at  all.  I  should  have  spoken  to  you  then  — 
but  it  quite  slipped  my  mind,  sir." 

Mr.  Dariza  sat  very  still  in  his  chair,  gazing  straight 
ahead  of  him  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing  of  this  world. 


80  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

What  they  saw,  who  shall  say?    Perhaps  a  vision  of 
his  own  youth;    perhaps  a  face  from  beyond  the  veil 
of  death.    At  last  he  turned  to  the  lover. 
"  You  may  have  her,  lad,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FRANCIS   SAILS   AWAY 

FRANCIS  left  Hopeland  shortly  after  breakfast, 
having  first  arranged  to  meet  Isobel  down  by  the  gates 
when  on  his  way  to  King's  Haven  early  in  the  after- 
noon. 

He  was  received  by  the  captain  in  the  hall  of  Ad- 
miral's Pride. 

"  This  is  a  strange  way  to  treat  us  on  your  last 
morning  ashore,"  said  the  war-scarred  sailor. 

Francis  placed  a  hand  on  each  of  his  father's 
shoulders. 

"  You  will  not  say  so  when  you  know  why  I  did  it, 
sir,"  he  said.  "  Isobel  has  promised  to  be  my  wife. 
I  —  I  have  so  short  a  time  to  be  with  her,  that  I  went 
over  this  morning.  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me,  sir  ?  " 

"Forgive  you?"  cried  the  captain.  "Bless  your 
heart,  what  else  can  I  do?  Frank,  you  are  a  lucky 
dog.  Gad,  how  you  can  sail  away  from  that  beauty  is 
more  than  I  can  see.  And  what  about  John?  Rip 
me,  but  this  is  a  good  joke  on  John!  " 

81 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  I  cannot  help  that,  sir,"  replied  Francis.  "  If 
John  is  hurt,  it  is  his  own  fault.  She  did  not  care  for 
him  —  though  he  led  us  to  think  otherwise." 

Just  then  the  mother  appeared. 

"  Alice,"  cried  the  captain,  "  this  young  knave  has 
as  good  an  excuse  as  I  ever  heard  for  not  staying  at 
home  for  breakfast.  What  d'ye  think?  Stab  me,  if 
he  isn't  the  accepted,  and  registered,  and  proclaimed 
future  husband  of  the  finest  girl  in  Virginia!  And  I 
am  glad  of  it.  He  deserves  the  best,  though  he  does 
not  happen  to  be  our  eldest." 

Mrs.  Drurie  flung  her  arms  around  her  son's  neck. 
"  But  what  is  your  father  talking  about  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  must  not  excite  him,  dear,  or  he'll  not  be  able 
to  ride  over  to  King's  Haven." 

Francis  smiled  at  his  father  over  his  mother's 
head. 

"  Isobel  has  promised  to  marry  me,  mother,  when 
I  return  from  this  voyage,"  he  said. 

"Isobel?"  cried  Mrs.  Drurie.  "Isobel  Dariza? 
And  what  of  poor  John  ?  " 

"And  what  of  him?"  cried  the  captain,  who  was 
working  himself  into  a  fine  fluster.  He  had  not  had  so 
much  excitement  since  his  last  battle.  "  And  what  of 
him?"  he  repeated.  "Can't  the  girl  pick  her  own 
husband  —  so  long  as  Dariza  does  not  object  ?  Aye, 


Francis  Sails  Away 


she  can  pick  from  all  Virginia!  And  she  has  picked, 
old  lady.  She  has  chosen  a  fighter  —  a  man  who  is 
already  a  good  soldier,  and  will  make  a  good  sailor. 

"  That's  as  it  should  be.  Sailors  and  soldiers  get 
the  finest  girls  —  aye,  and  always  will  —  I  did,  for 
one." 

At  that  moment  John  came  from  the  library,  at- 
tracted by  his  father's  tirade.  The  captain  turned 
upon  his  eldest,  and  gazed  at  him  from  beneath  puck- 
ered brows.  The  mother  withdrew  her  arms  from 
Frank's  neck,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  her 
children,  as  if  she  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

Francis  walked  up  to  his  brother.  "  Shake  hands, 
John,"  he  said.  "  There  has  been  a  mistake  —  but  I 
am  willing  to  forget  it.  Shake  hands,  lad." 

John  complied  with  the  other's  request.  But  he 
looked  puzzled  and  anxious.  "  What  is  all  this  about  ? 
Of  what  mistake  do  you  speak  ?  "  he  asked,  glancing 
from  Francis  to  his  father  and  mother. 

"  You  will  understand,  John,  when  I  inform  you 
that  Isobel  has  promised  to  become  my  wife,"  replied 
Francis  coldly. 

The  elder  brother  changed  colour,  muttered  a  few 
unintelligible  words,  and  hurried  from  the  hall. 

With  a  snort  of  rage,  the  captain  followed  as  fast 
as  his  lame  leg  would  allow.  Now  he  understood 


84  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

what  John's  game  had  been;  and  disgust  and  anger 
glowed  in  him. 

Mrs.  Drurie  turned  to  Francis  with  tears  of  fear  and 
consternation  in  her  eyes.  "What  is  it?"  she  cried. 
"  Why  is  your  father  so  angry  with  John  ?  He  said 
nothing.  He  is  to  be  pitied,  poor  boy." 

"  Yes,  John  is  to  be  pitied,"  said  Francis. 

"  Then  why  did  your  father  look  at  him  so  —  so 
frightfully?"  asked  the  distressed  woman.  "And 
what  was  the  mistake  of  which  you  spoke  to  John  ?  " 

"  It  is  nothing  to  worry  about  —  now,"  said  Francis, 
patting  his  mother's  hand.  "  John  made  a  mistake, 
some  time  ago  —  and  that  led  me  to  make  a  mistake. 
I  discovered  both  mistakes  last  night;  so  no  harm  is 
done." 

Mrs.  Drurie  was  about  to  ask  for  a  more  definite 
answer  to  her  question,  when  the  front  door  opened, 
and  Mr.  Fairwood  bounced  into  the  hall.  He  grasped 
the  young  man's  hand  in  both  of  his. 

"  Congratulations,  my  dear  boy!  "  he  cried.  "  'Tis 
the  best  thing  I've  heard  in  a  lifetime.  I've  just  been 
over  to  Hopeland,  and  the  girl  told  it  to  me  herself. 
She  is  the  finest  girl  in  the  world,  Frank  —  but,  as 
she  was  bound  to  fall  hi  love  with  some  man,  I  am  glad 
she  has  chosen  you."  He  turned  his  broad  and  glowing 
face  upon  Mrs.  Drurie.  "  She'll  make  a  daughter  for 


Francis  Sails  Away  85 

you  to  be  proud  of,  ma'am,  though  I  say  it,  who  am 
her  uncle."  He  returned  to  Francis.  "  But  why  have 
you  taken  so  long  to  find  out  what  was  the  trouble 
with  you?  Was  it  your  fault,  or  Isobel's?  Ton  my 
word,  lad,  it  looked  to  me  as  if  you  were  leaving  the 
finest  thing  in  the  world  to  a  young  man  who  already 
has  more  than  he  deserves.  And  yet  I  knew  all  the 
time  that  it  was  you  she  cared  for." 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me  so,"  said  Francis. 

Just  then  the  captain  returned  to  the  hall.  The 
thunder  had  cleared  from  his  brow  —  which  was  sure 
proof  that  he  had  rid  himself  of  the  lightning.  He 
gripped  his  old  friend's  hand,  and  clapped  him  on 
the  back.  "  You  are  in  the  nick  of  time,  Henry,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  Joskins  is  mixing  a  Billy-rough-un." 

John  appeared  just  when  the  punch  was  ready.  He 
looked  pale  and  decidedly  shamefaced.  Yet  he  drank 
the  healths  of  Isobel  and  his  brother  with  a  very  good 
grace.  Then,  refilling  his  glass,  he  proposed  fair 
winds  and  a  safe  return,  and  clinked  his  glass  against 
his  brother's. 

Yes,  Master  John  had  made  a  noble  recovery;  but 
deep  inside,  he  felt  small  and  mean.  Also,  he  thought 
his  heart  broken  —  but  that,  I  am  bound  to  confess, 
was  only  one  of  his  poetic  fancies. 

It  had  been  planned  that  Mrs.  Drurie  was  to  go  to 


86  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

King's  Haven  in  the  carriage,  and  that  Mr.  Fairwood 
and  the  three  Druries  were  to  ride.  Now  Mrs.  Drurie 
suggested  that  she  should  call  on  the  way  for  Isobel. 
She  wanted  to  begin  petting  the  girl  immediately. 
She  had  a  daughter  at  last. 

"  Perhaps  she  will  not  want  to  go,"  said  the  captain. 
"  It  would  be  a  hard  twist  for  her,  beyond  a  doubt." 

"  Isobel  is  a  girl  with  a  fine  spirit,"  replied  the  lady. 
"  I  know  more  of  this  sort  of  thing  than  you  do,  Paul. 
How  many  times  did  you  sail  away  from  me  before 
you  settled  down  to  a  peaceful  life?  And  was  there 
ever  a  time  that  I  did  not  go  aboard  your  ship,  and 
remain  aboard  until  the  last  boat  pulled  away  for 
the  shore  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,  Alice,"  admitted  the  captain. 
"  Women  are  the  very  devil  for  wanting  to  see  the 
last  of  everything.  They  worry  more  over  little  things 
that  they  don't  see,  than  over  big  things  that  they 
have  a  square  look  at.  Oh,  I'm  not  denying  the 
courage  of  the  finer  members  of  your  sex,  my  dear." 

"  But  I  hope  you'll  not  expect  her  to  do  anything 
that  —  that  she  may  not  want  to  do,"  ventured  Francis, 
blushing  very  red. 

The  captain  and  Mr.  Fairwood  laughed  uproariously 
at  that. 

"  Have   no   fear,   lad,"   the   captain   assured   him. 


Francis  Sails  Away  87 

"  She  shall  be  let  do  everything  that  she  wants  to  do 
and  nothing  that  she  does  not  want  to  do,  while  you 
are  away.  Her  word  will  be  law  with  us,  Frank,  you 
may  take  my  oath  on  that." 

"  You  had  better  go  over  to  Hopeland  and  ask  her 
if  she  will  accompany  us  into  King's  Haven,"  said  the 
lady.  "  The  carriage  would  call  for  her  at  three. 
Wait  a  moment,  dear,  and  I'll  send  a  note." 

"  And  if  your  bag  is  packed,  lad,  you  can  stay  there 
until  we  call  for  you,"  said  the  captain.  "  It  seems  to 
me  you've  cut  your  time  so  short  that  you'll  need 
every  minute  of  it." 

What  his  mother  wrote  to  Isobel,  Francis  did  not 
know.  It  must  have  been  something  remarkable,  to 
judge  by  the  effect  of  it  on  the  girl.  She  blushed  and 
wept  over  it. 

"  I  did  not  know  she  was  so  fond  of  me,"  she  said 
to  Francis. 

"  Everybody  loves  you,"  replied  the  young  man. 
"  But,"  he  added,  "  if  all  their  love  was  put  together, 
it  would  not  be  equal  to  one-millionth  part  of  my 
love  alone." 

"  And  just  think,  dear,  that  this  time  yesterday  I 
cried  for  almost  an  hour  because  I  thought  that  you 
did  not  love  me  at  all,"  said  the  girl. 

"  How  terrible!  "  exclaimed  Francis. 


88  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Isobel  decided  to  go  to  King's  Haven,  and  a  message 
was  sent  to  Admiral's  Pride  by  a  servant. 

Three  o'clock,  and  the  Drurie  carriage  and  the 
riders  arrived  all  too  soon  for  the  lovers.  Every  one 
but  John  kissed  Isobel. 

John  was  having  trouble,  at  the  time,  with  a  horse 
that  had  never  been  known  to  give  trouble  before. 

Then  Isobel  got  into  the  carriage,  the  driver  cracked 
his  whip,  the  gentlemen  swung  to  their  saddles,  and 
away  they  all  started  for  King's  Haven,  leaving  Mr. 
Dariza  waving  his  hand  from  the  wintry  lawn. 

Highways  were  poor  affairs  in  those  good  old  days, 
and  carriages  were  not  a  bit  better.  If  Mrs.  Drurie 
and  Isobel  clung  to  each  other  frequently  during  the 
journey,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  The  pitching, 
rolling,  and  bumping  kept  up  their  spirits.  It  was  much 
more  exciting  than  saddle-work.  The  carriage  was 
wide,  and  the  road  was  narrow;  but  Francis  managed 
to  keep  Jumper  close  beside  the  open  window  at  which 
IsobePs  face  appeared  in  every  lull  in  the  passage. 

Sometimes  the  agile  horse  was  in  the  ditch,  and  some- 
times in  the  thicket  of  leafless  blackberry  vines  beyond. 
Not  once  did  he  fall  behind  or  forge  ahead.  A  dozen 
times,  or  more,  he  was  so  close  to  the  window  that  his 
rider  was  able  to  reach  his  hand  within.  It  was  an 
exciting  and  pleasurable  journey. 


Francis  Sails  Away  89 

The  March  sun  was  shining,  and  the  March  wind 
was  piping  over  the  little  town  and  harbour  of  King's 
Haven.  Gulls  swerved  along  the  skipping  waves, 
and  the  air  was  wet  and  brisk  with  the  smell  of  the 
salty  flats  and  lively  acres  of  the  tide. 

At  the  end  of  the  wharf  the  Thrush  strained  secretly 
at  her  moorings,  rubbing,  pulling  a  little,  and  shifting 
this  way  and  that,  now  fore  and  aft,  now  up  and  down, 
as  if  to  discover  the  full  strength  of  the  ropes  that  held 
her.  The  wind  piped  in  her  tops  and  the  tide  fumbled 
at  her  keel. 

The  horses  were  stabled  at  the  tavern,  and  the  two 
ladies  and  four  gentlemen  went  down  the  wharf  and 
aboard  the  little  Thrush.  They  were  ushered  into 
the  tiny  cabin  by  a  dumfounded  boatswain,  and  there 
the  shipmaster  opened  a  bottle  of  his  best  wine,  and 
"  a  prosperous  voyage  "  was  drunk  by  every  one. 

Then  the  narrow,  dark  berth  in  which  Francis  was 
to  sleep  was  inspected.  Mrs.  Drurie  pronounced  it 
unfit  for  anything  but  a  cat,  and  the  captain  said  it 
was  a  palace  compared  to  his  berth  aboard  the  Sneezer 
when  he  was  a  midshipman.  Isobel  said  nothing; 
but,  the  little  coop  being  black  as  a  chimney,  she  lifted 
her  face  to  her  lover's. 

The  brig  swung  away  from  the  wharf,  and  little 
black  eddies  spun  between  the  moving  timbers  and  the 


90  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

fixed.  The  headsails  flapped  and  filled,  and  mariners 
went  up  the  shrouds  and  out  on  the  foot-ropes.  The 
main  sheet  was  manned,  and  the  yard  was  squared 
to  the  time  of  a  deep-sea  chanty  roared  by  husky 
throats. 

Francis  Drurie  stood  on  the  high  poop,  bare  headed, 
facing  the  land  from  which  he  was  so  swiftly  slipping 
away.  The  wharf  was  thronged  with  people. 

In  front,  in  a  little  space  left  for  them  by  the  town- 
folk,  stood  his  mother  and  Isobel,  his  father,  his 
brother,  and  Mr.  Fairwood.  He  could  see  how  straight 
the  girl  stood,  gazing  across  the  water  to  him,  her  right 
hand  clasped  in  that  of  the  elder  woman  and  the  left 
upon  her  lips. 

Then,  for  a  moment,  the  scene  dimmed  before  the 
young  man's  straining  eyes.  A  mist  of  tears  welled 
across  his  vision.  A  great  longing  broke  its  bonds 
within  him,  gripping  his  heart  and  shaking  him  from 
head  to  heel.  He  stretched  his  arms  toward  the 
wharf,  and  a  low,  harsh  cry  escaped  him.  It  was  that 
sound  that  startled  him  to  recovery. 

When  the  entrance  to  the  little  harbour  and  the 
roofs  of  the  town  were  hidden  by  the  shifting  coast- 
line, and  four  miles  of  sea  ran  and  splashed  between 
the  brig  and  Virginia,  Francis  Drurie  turned  and 
looked  at  the  life  that  was  going  on  so  briskly  and 


Francis  Sails  Away  91 

heartily  around  him.  All  the  sails  were  spread  to 
the  fair  but  gusty  wind.  The  master  stood  beside 
him,  gazing  up  at  the  swaying  spars  and  straining 
canvas.  Down  in  the  waist,  the  mate  walked  fore  and 
aft,  now  and  then  halting  to  roar  a  word  of  caution 
or  command  to  the  seamen  who  were  busy  at  belaying 
or  coiling  down  sheets  and  halyards. 

"  It  looks  as  if  we  had  made  a  fair  start,"  remarked 
Francis. 

"  Aye,  ye  may  well  say  it,"  replied  the  shipmaster. 
He  stepped  close  to  the  passenger  and  stared  at  him 
with  friendly  eyes.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  if  I  was  a  gentle- 
man, an'  loved  by  a  young  lady  like  the  one  that  loves 
ye,  I'd  never  set  a  foot  on  seagoin'  timber.  Not  for 
all  the  gold  in  Spain,  nor  all  the  'baccy  in  Virginia,  I 
wouldn't." 

'•'  Gentle  and  simple,  we  have  our  work  to  do  in  the 
world,"  replied  Francis.  "  It  is  our  work  that  makes 
England's  power." 

The  mariner  smiled.  "Aye,  that  be  well  enough 
for  men  like  me,  who  have  to  earn  our  bread,"  he 
agreed.  "  But  for  gentry  with  grand  houses,  an'  all 
the  heart  can  desire,  I  see  no  manner  o'  sense  in 
it." 

"  So  you  think  I  am  a  fool  for  my  trouble?"  in- 
quired Francis, 


92  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Aye,  sir,  meaning  no  disrespect,"  replied  the 
other. 

The  gentleman  smiled  somewhat  mournfully.  "  And 
what  do  you  say  to  the  voyage  I  am  to  sail  on  from 
Bristol  —  north  and  west  to  a  place  called  Hudson's 
Bay?" 

"  I  heard  of  it,  ashore,"  said  the  mariner.  "  Them 
seas  be  the  worst  in  the  world.  If  the  French  an'  the 
pirates  don't  get  ye  on  the  way,  ye  die  with  starvation 
when  ye  get  there.  It  is  madness,  sir,  to  my  way  o' 
thinkin'." 

"  Then  your  way  of  thinking  is  a  very  poor  way," 
said  Francis  shortly,  and  turned  his  shoulder  on  the 
discomfited  shipmaster. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AT  THE  CAT  AND  RAT 

THE  brig  Thrush  made  her  voyage  across  the 
Atlantic  without  accident.  She  weathered  a  half-gale 
or  two,  and  received  several  frights  from  questionable- 
looking  topsails  —  and  once  she  frankly  admitted  fear, 
and  crowded  on  canvas  until  the  foam  bubbled  over 
the  gilded  fiddles  under  her  forepeak. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  the  vessel  with  the  long 
topmasts  and  patched  sails  was  following  her  at  its 
best  speed.  But  the  brig  was  a  swift  little  craft;  and 
the  excitement  lasted  only  half  a  day.  Perhaps  it 
would  not  have  lasted  so  long  as  that  if  the  master  had 
complied  with  his  passenger's  request  to  wait  and  en- 
gage the  stranger. 

Francis  Drurie  had  found  time  heavy  on  his  hands 
during  the  voyage,  though  he  had  applied  himself 
to  the  studies  of  navigation,  seamanship,  and  the 
French  language.  In  spite  of  his  work,  he  had  never 
been  entirely  free  from  the  sense  of  loss  and  longing 
that  stirred,  day  and  night,  in  his  heart. 

98 


94  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

In  Bristol,  however,  this  pain  was  greatly  eased.  On 
solid  land,  among  men  and  houses,  the  mind  found 
relief  from  that  constant  sense  of  the  vastness  of  space 
and  separation  from  which  there  had  been  no  escape 
on  shipboard.  Here  were  quiet  folk  living  quiet, 
commonplace  lives,  even  as  the  townspeople  of  King's 
Haven.  One  had  only  to  forget  the  weary  days  of 
sailing,  and  Virginia  did  not  seem  so  hopelessly  far 
away,  after  all. 

Francis  had  his  numerous  boxes  and  bags  carted 
to  a  respectable  tavern,  situated  at  some  distance  from 
the  waterfront.  He  summoned  the  innkeeper,  and 
asked  for  the  best  room  in  the  house.  He  was  led  to 
it  in  a  twinkling,  and  his  luggage  followed  close  on  his 
heels. 

He  had  not  brought  his  body-servant  with  him 
from  Virginia,  because  of  the  lack  of  accommodations 
aboard  the  Thrush;  but  now  he  asked  the  innkeeper 
to  find  a  suitable  man  to  serve  him  until  the  sailing 
of  the  expedition.  The  fellow  assured  him  that  nothing 
could  be  easier,  excused  himself  for  a  minute  or  two, 
and  returned  with  a  red-headed  lad  of  about  eighteen 
years  of  age. 

"  Captain,  this  is  my  son  Nicholas.  Ye'll  find  him 
honest  an'  willin',  an'  a  wonder  at  lookin'  after  a 
gentleman,"  he  said. 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat  95 

Francis  made  an  elaborate  toilet.  Then,  with  his 
servant's  assistance,  he  found  his  way  to  the  counting- 
house  of  his  father's  agent.  He  cut  such  a  fine  figure 
that  he  was  admitted  to  the  merchant's  private  room 
without  so  much  as  being  asked  his  name.  Nick 
followed  him,  carrying  a  massive  despatch-box.  The 
merchant  got  to  his  feet,  and  bowed. 

"  What  can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  doing  for  you, 
sir  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  My  name  is  Francis  Drurie,"  replied  the  colonial, 
"  and  I  have  this  boxful  of  money  to  leave  in  your  care 
for  a  short  time,  if  you  will  be  so  obliging." 

"Drurie?  A  Drurie  of  Virginia?"  exclaimed  the 
merchant. 

"  Yes.  Here  is  a  letter  to  you,  from  my  father," 
replied  Francis. 

He  produced  the  letter.  The  other  broke  the  seal 
and  read  it. 

Francis  did  not  get  away  from  the  merry  and  pros- 
perous Master  Albert  Smithers,  shipping-agent,  com- 
mission-merchant, and  importer  of  corn  and  tobacco, 
until  he  had  promised  to  sup  with  him  that  night. 
Returning  to  his  inn,  he  again  changed  his  clothes. 

This  time  he  put  on  a  brown  suit  that  had  seen  a 
good  deal  of  wear,  but  was  neat  and  respectable ; 
riding-boots  in  place  of  buckled  shoes,  and  a  serviceable 


96  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

hat,  very  modestly  laced.  Instead  of  his  sword,  he 
hung  a  pistol  to  his  waist,  well  back  under  the  skirt  of 
his  coat.  Then,  taking  his  cane  in  his  hand,  he  told 
Nicholas  to  lead  the  way  to  the  Cat  and  Rat. 

Nicholas  stared  at  him,  open-mouthed. 

"  Well,  what  is  the  trouble  ?  "  asked  Francis. 

"  Why,  sir,  it  be  a  low,  rough  place,  that  Cat  and 
Rat,"  said  the  young  fellow.  "  An'  no  place  for  a 
gentleman  like  yer  honour,"  he  added. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  have  business  there,"  replied 
Francis.  "  If  you  do  not  want  to  accompany  me,  I 
shall  have  to  find  another  servant.  That  would  be  a 
pity,  for  you  seem  an  honest,  capable  fellow." 

"  I'll  go  with  'e,  sir,"  cried  Nick  hastily. 

They  went  down  to  the  harbour-side,  and  along  it 
for  some  distance.  The  way  was  full  of  interest  for 
Francis  Drurie.  Here  was  the  din  of  deep-sea  business 
and  adventure  on  either  hand.  On  the  one,  the  din 
of  the  loading  and  unloading  ships,  and  on  the  other 
the  din  of  the  warehouses.  With  this  lively  human 
side  to  it,  this  business  of  seafaring  seemed  a  very 
homely  thing. 

Here,  all  crowded  together  like  sheep  in  a  pen, 
were  more  ships  than  Francis  had  seen  before  hi  the 
whole  course  of  his  life.  King's  Haven  was  a  toy 
harbour  compared  to  this  place.  Strange  men  were 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat  97 

on  every  side,  and  strange  voices  shouted  from  the 
ships.  There  was  a  fellow  as  yellow  as  a  lemon,  with 
rings  of  extraordinary  size  in  his  ears,  and  no  more 
clothing  on  him  than  shirt  and  trousers,  hi  spite  of  the 
chill  of  the  English  air.  Around  his  head  he  wore  a 
bright  red  cloth,  and  he  smoked  tobacco  twisted  up  hi 
a  little  stick  the  size  of  one's  finger. 

Like  a  number  of  others  on  the  docks  and  in  the 
street,  he  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  watch 
other  people  work.  He  was  a  big  fellow,  lean  as  a 
hound,  but  boned  like  a  giant.  As  Francis  and  his 
man  passed  him,  picking  their  way  through  a  clutter 
of  bales  and  puncheons,  he  stared  at  them  with  eyes 
as  black  and  inscrutable  as  pools  of  pitch. 

This  touched  the  Virginian's  anger.  It  smacked  of 
insolence  to  him.  Turning  quickly,  he  met  the  fellow's 
glance. 

"  Well,  my  friend,  is  there  something  you  wish  to 
say  to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

Nicholas  pulled  at  his  elbow,  and  in  the  second  or 
two  employed  in  shaking  off  the  servant  the  yellow, 
pirate-like  mariner  vanished  among  the  piles  of  cargo- 
stuff.  The  big  man  was  gone,  but  so  swiftly  had  he 
slipped  away  that  a  wisp  of  tobacco  smoke  still  hung 
in  the  air  where  he  had  been. 

Francis  turned  angrily  upon  his  servant.     "  Why 


98  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

did  you  take  hold  of  my  arm  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  guarded 
voice.  "  Is  that  the  way  servants  are  taught  to  treat 
their  masters  in  England  ?  " 

"  I  did  it  for  your  own  good,  sir,"  answered  Nicholas 
boldly. 

"  You  don't  understand  Bristol  waterfront  yet,  sir, 
or  ye'd  never  pay  any  attention  to  a  fellow  like  that. 
He  took  to  his  heels.  Well,  sir,  let  us  be  thankful  for 
that.  If  he  hadn't  he'd  ha'  ripped  his  knife  into  ye  as 
quick  as  a  wink." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  Francis.  They  moved 
on,  both  keeping  a  sharp  watch  on  every  side.  "  But 
what  do  you  mean?  "  asked  the  master  in  a  low  voice. 
"  What  cause  was  there  for  him  to  stick  a  knife  into 
me  ?  Or  to  run  away  from  me,  for  that  matter  ?  Who 
is  the  fellow?" 

"  I  do  not  know  who  he  be,  nor  what  he  be,  but  the 
first  look  at  him  told  me  that  he  was  a  dangerous 
man,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  This  crowd  be  full  o' 
murderers  an'  pickpockets.  Half  o'  them  be  no  better 
nor  pirates." 

For  a  few  minutes  Francis  followed  the  lad  in  silence. 
They  turned  up  a  narrow  alley  that  twisted  away  from 
the  wharves,  beyond  the  fringe  of  warehouses,  and 
lost  itself  in  a  place  of  toppling,  decaying  build- 
ings. 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat  99 

"Are  we  near  the  tavern?"  asked  Francis.  He 
whispered  the  simple  question. 

There  was  an  air  of  ruin  and  hopelessness  about  the 
shabby  houses  and  narrow  footway  that  chilled  his 
spirit  and  thrilled  him  with  a  vague  but  active  appre- 
hension. 

In  answer  to  the  question  Nicholas  pointed  to  a 
weather-beaten  signboard  that  swung  creakily  from  a 
house  about  twenty  paces  away. 

"  There's  the  den,"  he  said,  turning  a  slow  glance 
of  anxious  inquiry  upon  his  master's  face. 

"  Wait  here,"  said  Drurie.  "  Or,  at  least,  somewhere 
within  ear-shot  of  a  call.  If  I  do  not  appear  in  twenty 
minutes'  time  you  may  either  go  home  or  come  and 
look  for  me." 

"  I  will  come  an'  look  for  ye,  captain,"  said  Nicholas. 

Francis  Drurie  entered  the  low  doorway  of  the  Cat 
and  Rat,  and  peered  anxiously  round  the  gloomy 
room  in  which  he  found  himself. 

It  was  a  second  or  so  before  his  eyes  were  suffi- 
ciently accustomed  to  the  dusk  to  make  out  anything. 
Then  he  saw  several  small  tables  placed  irregularly 
about  the  flagged  floor,  and  six  rough  fellows  drinking 
their  liquor.  The  table  closest  to  the  door  was  un- 
occupied. 

He  moved  over  to  it,  seated  himself  on  a  stool,  and 


100  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

struck  the  table  a  brisk  blow  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 
Nothing  happened.  He  looked  keenly  round  for  a 
sight  of  the  tavern-keeper,  and  his  eyes  met  the  un- 
wavering, black  regard  of  the  fellow  of  the  lemon- 
yellow  face  and  red-bound  head. 

He  started  imperceptibly,  and  his  heart  drummed 
in  his  breast,  but  he  showed  no  sign  of  recognition  or 
alarm.  He  let  his  glance  pass  easily  from  the  yellow 
face;  and  there,  in  the  back  of  the  room,  he  saw  a 
small  man,  with  a  bald  head,  watching  him  intently. 
There  was  a  feeling  of  swiftly  suspended  conversation 
in  the  air  of  the  room. 

Very  deliberately,  Francis  knocked  three  times  on 
the  table  with  the  knuckles  of  his  right  hand,  and  four 
times  with  his  left. 

The  change  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was 
startling  in  its  suddenness,  and  yet  wonderfully  com- 
forting. It  was  as  if  the  air  had  cleared,  quick  as  the 
turn  of  a  hand,  of  some  threatening  storm.  The  five 
drinkers,  who  had  sat  like  images,  now  raised  their 
mugs  and  glasses  to  their  lips.  The  big  fellow  of  the 
yellow  face  shifted  on  his  stool  and  puffed  at  his  thin 
roll  of  tobacco  leaves.  The  little  man  with  the  bald 
head  came  briskly  forward  from  the  back  of  the  room 
and  asked,  loudly  and  heartily,  what  it  was  the  gentle- 
man's pleasure  to  drink. 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat  101 

Stepping  close  to  Francis,  and  without  waiting  for 
an  answer,  he  whispered,  "  Topsil,"  and  shot  a  glance 
like  a  knife  for  sharpness  into  the  young  gentleman's 
face. 

"  Tagantsil,"  replied  Francis,  smiling. 

"  Rum,  did  ye  say,  cap'n  ? "  asked  the  tavern- 
keeper. 

"  Aye,  rum  and  limes,"  replied  Drurie. 

The  fellow  was  back  in  a  minute  with  the  liquor. 
He  served  it  untidily,  but  evidently  as  well  as  he  could. 

"  If  ye'd  ask  me  to  set  down  an'  take  a  nip  with  ye, 
cap'n,  then  we  could  talk  a  bit,"  he  whispered,  rubbing 
the  purple  blotch  on  his  cheek  with  a  very  dirty  finger, 
and  winking  knowingly  at  his  customer. 

"Will  you  join  me  in  a  glass,  innkeeper?"  in- 
quired the  other  clearly. 

The  fellow  accepted  the  invitation  with  a  polite 
but  grotesque  bow,  and  immediately  drew  up  a  stool 
and  seated  himself  close  to  Drurie. 

"Well,  what  news?"  asked  the  gentleman. 

"  He  be  gone  on  a  voyage,"  replied  the  innkeeper. 
"  The  king's  men  got  too  hot  on  his  heels." 

"For  the  old  trouble?"  asked  Francis,  eying  the 
fellow  sharply. 

"  Aye.    What  else?  "  replied  the  little  man. 

"  Where  has  he  sailed  to  ?  " 


102  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Northward  into  Scotland." 

"  And  when  do  you  expect  him  back  ?  " 

"  Not  till  the  hounds  that  be  after  him  forget  a 
bit." 

"  And  what  of  Master  Job  Spark,  of  the  Golden 
Crown?  "  asked  Francis,  after  a  minute  of  reflection. 

"  Never  heard  o'  the  man,"  replied  the  other 
promptly. 

Drurie  saw  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
learned  at  present  from  mine  host  of  the  Cat  and  Rat. 
He  paid  his  score,  promised  to  call  again  in  the  course 
of  a  week  or  two,  and  stepped  toward  the  door. 

"  Hold,  cap'n,  hold!  "  cried  the  innkeeper.  "  I  have 
another  word  to  say  to  you." 

The  young  man  halted  and  turned,  his  temper 
somewhat  rubbed  by  the  fellow's  manner. 

"  Out  with  it,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "  your  friend,  the 
gentleman  what  we  was  talkin'  of,  owed  me  a  trifle 
o'  money  when  he  went  away.  He  said  as  how  ye'd 
give  it  to  me,  without  a  question,  if  ye  got  here  afore 
he  did." 

This  was  such  an  apparent  lie,  and  with  such  a  low, 
beggarly  motive,  that  Drurie's  anger  leaped  red-hot 
within.  Yet  he  controlled  himself,  and  asked  quietly 
the  amount  of  the  debt, 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat  103 

"  Five  yellow-boys,  cap'n,"  replied  the  crafty  fellow. 

"  If  you  can  show  me  proof  that  my  friend  owes 
you  this  money  —  or  ten  times  the  amount  —  I'll  pay 
it  to  you;  but  not  a  penny  do  you  get  from  me  other- 
wise," said  Francis  firmly. 

A  sneering,  brutal  smile  twisted  the  tavern-keeper's 
face.  He  turned  his  head  a  little,  so  as  to  glance  over 
his  shoulder,  and  yet  keep  the  tail  of  his  eye  on  Francis. 

"  Come,  lads,"  he  said  softly. 

The  six  fellows  sprang  from  their  stools  and  rushed 
forward.  Francis  cleared  his  pistol,  and  presented  it 
at  the  tavern-keeper's  head.  The  little  rogue  dodged 
away  behind  the  nearest  table,  pale  as  tallow. 

Then  the  six  hesitated,  within  leaping  distance  of 
their  prey,  and  then  a  wonderful  thing  happened. 
The  foremost  ruffian  had  his  arm  up  and  back,  ready 
to  throw  his  knife,  when,  quick  as  light,  the  big  fellow 
with  the  yellow  face  struck  him  in  the  side.  The  red 
blood  hopped  out.  Without  an  instant's  pause  the  big 
yellow  fellow  dashed  his  left  fist  into  another's  face, 
his  knife  into  another's  side,  and  kicked  a  third  in  the 
belly. 

By  this  time  Francis  had  turned  his  pistol  about  and 
cracked  the  head  of  the  last  of  his  opponents.  The 
tavern-keeper  crouched  behind  the  table,  all  but 
fainting  with  terror. 


104  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

The  fellow  with  the  yellow  face  tossed  his  knife 
away,  grabbed  young  Drurie  by  the  wrist,  and  bolted 
from  the  room. 

Nicholas  was  waiting  outside,  with  a  rusty  pistol 
in  his  hand  and  an  expression  of  neck-or-nothing  on 
his  freckled  face. 

"  Spare  him  —  he  is  my  servant,"  cried  Francis 
to  his  rescuer;  and  to  Nicholas,  as  he  hurtled  past, 
"  Don't  shoot!  Follow  us!  " 

Turning  sharp  to  the  right,  they  raced  into  an  alley 
still  narrower  than  the  other,  the  amazing  rescuer 
still  gripping  Drurie's  wrist.  About  a  hundred  yards 
up,  they  came  to  a  high,  blind  wall. 

Here  they  halted.  The  big  fellow  released  the 
other's  wrist. 

"  You  follow  me,  cap'n,  an'  me  save  you,"  he  said. 
Then  he  laughed.  "  Me  play  fine  trick  on  dem  dirty 
robbers,"  he  said. 

Now  Nicholas  was  up  with  them,  his  pistol  still  in 
readiness.  Francis  looked  squarely  into  the  glowing, 
black  eyes  of  the  man  who  had  just  saved  his 
life. 

"  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Me  got  good  reason,"  replied  the  other,  whose  talk 
was  as  foreign  as  his  eyes  and  complexion.  "  Me  tell 
you  why  when  we  get  more  safe." 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat  105 

Francis  grasped  the  fellow's  hand,  though  it  was  wet 
with  blood. 

"  You  have  done  me  a  turn  I'll  never  forget,"  he 
said  earnestly. 

The  foreigner  grinned  and  nodded  his  head  violently. 
Then  he  backed  away  a  few  steps,  ran  forward,  and 
sprang  up  the  face  of  the  wall.  His  big  hands  got  a 
grip  on  the  top,  and  hi  a  moment  he  was  up.  Gripping 
a  knee  on  each  side,  he  leaned  down  with  extended 
arms. 

"  Up  you  go,"  said  Francis  to  Nicholas. 

The  lad  jumped,  and  the  man  on  the  wall  caught 
his  wrists  and  drew  him  up  beside  him.  Francis 
followed. 

From  the  top  of  the  wall  they  dropped  into  a  small 
and  untidy  stable-yard,  hemmed  in  by  the  back  of  a 
large,  forsaken  house  an4  ramshackly  sheds. 

"  You  follow  close,"  cautioned  the  man  with  the 
yellow  face. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  MAN   WITH  THE   YELLOW  FACE 

THE  three  fugitives  from  the  Cat  and  Rat  entered 
the  big  house  by  way  of  a  basement  window.  Then 
into  a  hole  into  the  flagged  floor  hidden  by  all  kinds 
of  musty  lumber  dived  the  leader,  followed  close  by  the 
gentleman  and  his  servant.  Down  they  stumbled  at 
a  sharp  incline,  with  blackness  round  them  like  a 
blanket,  and  raw  earth  under  foot. 

Francis  held  the  back  of  the  big  fellow's  sash,  and 
Nicholas,  hi  his  turn,  clung  to  the  skirts  of  his  master's 
coat.  Francis  had  a  small  knife  in  his  free  hand. 
Nicholas  still  gripped  his  pistol. 

The  leader  halted.    "  Me  make  a  light,"  he  said. 

Click,  dick,  chirped  steel  on  flint.  A  spark  jumped 
into  being,  and  up  sprang  a  tiny  flame.  Francis  hid 
his  knife  in  his  breast.  The  big  fellow  fumbled  about. 
In  a  second  the  gleam  of  a  candle  flared  in  the 
darkness. 

They  were  in  a  tiny  chamber  walled  by  stone  on 
two  sides  and  on  two  by  timber.  In  one  corner  was  a 

106 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     107 

hearth.  The  earthen  floor  was  partly  covered  with 
rugs.  A  number  of  sea-chests  and  canvas  bags  lay 
about,  and  on  the  walls  hung  a  crucifix,  a  fine  long 
sword  in  a  scabbard  of  black-and-gold,  and  a  for- 
midable row  of  cutlases  and  pistols. 

The  man  with  the  yellow  face  lit  two  more  candles. 

"  You  wait  one  minute,"  he  said.  "  Pedro  fix 
hisself  quick." 

First  of  all,  he  washed  the  blood  from  his  hands  and 
threw  the  discoloured  water  into  the  ashes  on  the  hearth. 
Then  he  tore  off  his  cotton  shirt,  disclosing  a  torso 
roped  with  long  muscles  and  marked  out  in  half  a 
dozen  places  with  puckered  scars.  He  drew  a  shirt  of 
fine  silk  from  one  of  the  boxes  and  donned  it  in  a 
twinkling.  He  changed  his  ragged  trousers  for  fine 
breeches,  silk  stockings,  and  high  boots.  From  a  tiny 
vial  he  rubbed  something  on  his  face  and  neck  that 
changed  his  colour  from  that  of  a  ripe  lemon  to  that 
of  an  Arab.  Then  he  powdered  his  hair  and  put  on  a 
fine  blue  coat. 

"  Me  look  quite  like  Spanish  gentleman,  name 
Cap'n  Cremona,  now,"  said  Pedro,  showing  his  white 
teeth  in  a  grin. 

Francis  smiled  and  nodded;   Nicholas  only  gaped. 

Pedro  belted  the  long  sword  to  his  side  and  clapped 
on  his  head  a  black  hat  heavily  laced  with  gold,  Then 


108  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

he  made  up  a  bundle  of  the  crucifix,  a  little  bag  of 
soft  leather,  two  of  the  pistols,  and  a  few  shirts  and 
stockings.  He  heaped  the  straw  from  the  two  couches 
against  one  of  the  wooden  walls,  tossed  dry  clothing 
around  it,  and  took  one  of  the  candles  in  his  hand. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  "  asked  Francis  anx- 
iously. 

"  Set  fire,"  replied  Pedro  coolly.  "  Den  nobody 
fin'  dis  place  where  Hodge  an'  Big  Pedro  hide  so 
long." 

"Hodge?  What  do  you  know  of  Hodge?"  asked 
Francis  excitedly. 

"  You  know  an'  me  know,"  he  said.  He  leaned  to 
the  gentleman's  ear  and  whispered:  "Hodge!  Bah! 
Him  your  frien'  in  Virgin  —  Richard  Dariza.  Dem 
fools  don't  know.  Him  my  master  —  Richard  Dariza." 

"  Were  you  his  servant  ? "  cried  Francis,  again 
grasping  the  fellow's  hand. 

"Yes.  Me  tell  you  soon,"  replied  Pedro.  He 
stooped  and  touched  the  flame  of  the  candle  to  the 
straw. 

"  Stop.    Half  the  city  will  burn,"  cried  Francis. 

Pedro  shook  his  head.  "No  win'.  Pretty  safe. 
Just  burn  one  or  two  house,  me  think,"  he  replied. 
"  Now  you  come  quick,"  he  added,  pulling  open  a  door 
in  one  of  the  wooden  walls. 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     109 

A  few  moments  later  the  three  stood  in  a  quiet, 
narrow  street. 

Pedro  pointed  at  Nicholas.  "  Him  good,  honest 
boy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  he  is  honest  and  trusty,"  replied  Francis. 
He  put  his  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder.  "  Do  you 
understand  ?  Not  a  word  of  this  to  any  one,"  he  said. 
"  We  did  not  go  to  the  Cat  and  Rat.  We  have  never 
so  much  as  heard  the  name  of  the  place." 

Nicholas  looked  terribly  frightened.  "  Ye  can  trust 
me,  sir,"  he  stammered.  "  I  be  your  trusty  servant,  sir." 

"  That  good,"  said  Pedro.  He  tapped  his  broad 
chest.  "  An'  me  Cap'n  Drurie's  frien',  name  Cap'n 
Cremona,"  he  added. 

"  Remember  that,"  said  Francis  to  Nicholas. 

They  reached  Drurie's  respectable  hotel  hi  good 
order,  though  by  this  time  a  slim  plume  of  black 
streamed  to  the  sky  from  down  harbour- way,  and  the 
clanging  of  bells  and  roar  of  voices  came  faintly  to 
them  on  the  spring  air. 

The  two  gentlemen  walked  arm-in-arm,  and  Nicholas 
at  their  heels  with  the  bundle.  They  halted  and  turned 
at  the  doorway  of  the  inn  and  gazed  at  the  smoke  in 
the  sky. 

"  One  big  fire,  I  think,"  remarked  Cremona,  with 
dignified  concern  hi  his  voice. 


110  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Captain  Cremona,  or  Big  Pedro,  or  whatever  you 
want  to  call  him,  told  Francis  Drurie  a  story  that 
explained  his  amazing  behaviour. 

Cremona  had  been  born  in  England  some  forty 
years  ago,  of  Portuguese  parents.  He  had  struggled 
through  a  rough  and  neglected  childhood.  He  had 
been  shipped  to  sea  at  the  age  of  twelve,  and  for 
years  had  been  treated  worse  than  a  dog. 

After  that  he  had  sailed  many  voyages  as  an  able 
seaman.  For  several  years  he  had  cruised  in  the  West 
India  islands.  "  Good  money  in  dem  waters,"  he 
explained,  with  a  reminiscent  smile.  Later  he  had 
been  impressed  into  the  royal  service;  and  it  was  during 
this  period  of  his  career  that  he  had  come  to  know 
and  love  Richard  Dariza. 

He  was  the  young  lieutenant's  servant  aboard  the 
Scorpion  for  two  years.  Richard  had  always  treated 
him  kindly  and  had  saved  him  from  more  than  one 
flogging.  They  had  been  in  tight  corners  together, 
risking  their  lives  side  by  side.  Then  the  trouble  had 
come. 

A  senior  officer,  drunk,  had  insulted  Dariza.  Dariza 
had  retorted  by  calling  him  a  liar.  A  duel  had  followed, 
with  fatal  results  to  the  senior  officer.  This  man 
happened  to  be  of  a  very  powerful  family;  and  so  the 
young  lieutenant,  assisted  by  all  the  officers  of  his 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     111 

own  ship,  vanished  from  the  world  that  had  known 
him. 

His  servant  had  vanished  with  him.  The  two  had 
worked  on  the  docks  of  many  cities  together  as  com- 
rades, and  had  sailed  several  voyages  in  the  same 
ships.  They  had  made  a  living,  and  had  done  nothing 
worse  than  a  trifle  of  smuggling. 

Forced  by  fear  of  the  law  to  avoid  the  honester 
houses  of  entertainment  in  Bristol,  they  had  become 
connected  with  the  questionable  gang  that  frequented 
the  Cat  and  Rat.  The  tavern-keeper,  Mull  by  name, 
was  a  sharp-witted  fellow,  and  had  seen  at  a  glance 
that  Richard  was  no  common  sailor.  He  had  begun 
immediately  to  show  the  young  man  a  great  deal  of 
attention,  and  soon  professed  a  warm  regard  for  him. 
Richard  had  believed  in  the  fellow's  professions  for 
some  time. 

Cremona  never  had,  however.  Richard  had  trusted 
Mull  to  a  certain  extent,  but  never  so  far  as  to  tell 
him  the  true  cause  of  his  fall  in  the  world,  or  anything 
definite  of  his  old  home,  or  the  true  relation  existing 
between  himself  and  Pedro. 

In  fact,  the  gang  thought  that  they  were  but  chance 
acquaintances  of  a  voyage  or  two.  Richard  had  asked 
Mull  to  find  a  trusty  shipmaster,  bound  for  Virginia, 
to  carry  a  letter  for  him;  and  Mull  had  recommended 


112  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

the  master  of  the  Golden  Crown,  who  was  not  of  the 
gang,  but  whom  he  knew  slightly.  Both  Richard  and 
Pedro  had  talked  to  the  old  mariner.  He  was  honest, 
beyond  a  doubt.  A  fever  had  kept  Richard  in  Bristol 
for  more  than  a  month,  and  Pedro  had  remained, 
too. 

They  had  made  themselves  a  hiding-place  unknown 
even  to  Mull.  Men  had  come  for  Richard  to  the  Cat 
and  Rat;  but  Mull  had  put  them  off  with  crafty  lies. 
For  this  service  Richard  had  paid  him  good  money. 

At  least  Mull  had  said  the  men  had  come.  Pedro 
did  not  believe  him.  If  it  was  true,  Mull  would  have 
learned  the  fugitive's  real  name  —  a  thing  that  had 
not  happened.  But  at  the  time,  Pedro  had  not  reasoned 
so  clearly. 

Soon,  Mull  had  more  talk  of  officers  of  the  law 
prowling  about.  Richard  then  slipped  away  on  a 
small  coasting  schooner,  leaving  his  faithful  com- 
panion behind  him.  He  himself  had  begun  to  distrust 
the  sincerity  of  Mull's  friendship.  Pedro  had  re- 
mained in  Bristol  and  in  close  touch  with  the  Cat  and 
Rat,  on  the  chance  that  the  master  of  the  Golden 
Crown  might  return  with  an  answer  to  the  letter,  or 
that  Francis  Drurie  might  answer  it  in  person. 

The  possibility  of  his  friend's  arrival  had  troubled 
Richard  greatly  ever  since  he  had  begun  to  doubt 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     113 

the  honesty  of  Mull's  intentions.  And  ever  since 
Richard's  departure  Pedro  had  kept  a  bright  eye  on 
Master  Mull.  Yet  not  quite  bright  enough,  for  one 
day  Mull  had  slipped  six  golden  coins  into  his  hand. 

"  'Tis  your  share  o'  a  trifle  we  took  last  night," 
Mull  had  whispered.  "  Though  ye  were  not  on  hand 
to  help,  ye  be  one  o'  the  gang." 

Then  Pedro  had  heard  how  Master  Job  Spark  had 
been  robbed  of  one  hundred  pounds.  So  Pedro  had 
kept  a  still  sharper  lookout  after  that,  and  at  last  had 
spotted  Drurie  and  known  him  instantly  for  Richard's 
friend.  He  had  hurried  to  the  tavern  so  as  to  be  on 
hand  in  case  of  need. 

Francis  Drurie  could  find  no  adequate  expression 
for  the  admiration  and  gratitude  that  glowed  within 
him  toward  Cremona.  He  shook  the  big  fellow's 
hand.  He  clapped  him  on  the  back.  He  drank  his 
health  in  the  best  wine  in  the  house,  and  called  him 
his  very  dear  friend.  He  offered  him  half  of  every- 
thing he  had  and  a  berth  as  a  gentleman  adventurer 
to  Hudson's  Bay. 

Cremona  grinned  expansively,  swallowed  the  good 
wine  in  quantity,  and  stuck  out  his  chest.  "  Me  a 
gentleman,"  he  said.  "  Well,  that  all  right  —  me  do 
right  thing  for  frien's.  Me  don't  want  money.  Me 
don't  go  to  Hudson  Bay  with  you  — no,  not  now. 


114  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Some  day  —  nex'  voyage  —  yes.  Now,  Cap'n  Cre- 
mona go  look  for  his  old  master  —  his  Men'  —  an' 
tell  him  how  you  come  an'  fine  fight  we  make.  When 
you  get  back  from  big  voyage,  we  be  here  in  dis  same 
room." 

"  You  are  the  trustiest  heart  in  the  world,"  cried 
Francis. 

Nicholas  was  called  up  and  told  enough  to  set  his 
mind  at  rest,  but  not  enough  to  endanger  any  one 
should  he  prove  less  honest  than  he  seemed. 

A  room  near  Drurie's  was  engaged  for  Cremona, 
for  the  big  fellow  had  accepted  the  other's  invitation 
to  remain  in  Bristol  as  his  guest  for  a  few  days.  Then 
he  would  start  north  to  find  Richard,  knowing  in  what 
ports  to  look  for  him. 

Francis  dressed  again  in  his  finest  clothes.  By  now 
it  was  dusk,  and  Nicholas  had  lighted  the  candles. 
The  landlord  came  to  the  door  and  said  that  a  gentle- 
man had  called  to  see  Captain  Drurie. 

Master  Smithers  was  shown  up.  "  I  am  a  few 
minutes  late,"  he  said.  "  There  is  a  fire  down  at  the 
water-front,  and  I  was  a  little  anxious.  But  the  ware- 
houses are  safe.  It  has  been  confined  to  four  or  five 
buildings  that  were  worse  than  worthless,  in  that  they 
sheltered  some  of  the  vilest  characters  of  the  city." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  suffered  no   loss," 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     115 

replied  Francis.  Then  he  presented  his  friend  Captain 
Cremona  to  Master  Smithers. 

They  had  up  another  bottle  of  wine. 

"  And  how  have  you  enjoyed  your  first  six  hours  in 
Bristol?"  asked  Smithers. 

"  I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  and  interesting  time," 
replied  Francis,  smiling  at  Cremona. 

Smithers  turned  to  Cremona  with  a  bow.  "  I  trust 
you  are  free  to  join  us  at  supper,  captain,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  me  free.  Thank  you  very  large,"  replied  the 
giant. 


CHAPTER   XI 

IN  WHICH  A  SPANISH  GENTLEMAN  ARRIVES  IN  VIRGINIA 

FOR  three  days  Cremona  lived  with  Francis  Drurie, 
and  each  day  he  rose  higher  in  the  Virginian's  regard. 
Then  he  went  away,  cheerful  and  full  of  the  great 
things  they  should  do  when  next  they  met.  He  would 
take  no  money  for  either  himself  or  Richard,  but 
pressed  upon  Francis  one  of  his  fine  pistols. 

Francis  heard  or  saw  nothing  more  of  the  rascally 
Mull  during  his  short  stay  in  Bristol;  but  he  avoided 
the  harbourside,  save  when  accompanied  by  a  friend 
or  two.  He  heard  not  so  much  as  a  word  of  the  dead 
men  in  the  Cat  and  Rat.  They  were  fellows  of  no 
account,  and  perchance  the  authorities  considered  them 
better  dead  than  alive.  These  were  fine  times  for 
people  with  true  friends  and  long  knives  —  but  not 
so  fine  for  others. 

Francis  wrote  five  letters  during  his  sojourn  in 
Bristol;  one  to  Isobel  —  which  was  not  sealed  and 
handed  over  to  Master  Smithers  until  the  very  day  of 

116 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       117 

sailing  on  the  great  voyage  —  and  the  others  to  his 
father,  his  mother,  Fairwood  of  Fairwood  Manor,  and 
Dariza  of  Hopeland. 

As  his  days  and  evenings  were  fully  occupied  by 
work  in  connection  with  the  expedition,  and  by  social 
engagements  with  people  interested  in  the  Royal 
Company,  in  which  he  was  now  an  officer,  he  was  forced 
to  toil  at  his  letter- writing  in  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning,  thereby  winning  a  great  reputation  for  schol- 
arship in  the  eyes  of  his  servant  Nicholas.  Having 
decided,  after  careful  reflection,  that  there  was  no 
reason  for  keeping  a  knowledge  of  Richard's  existence 
from  Isobel,  he  told  her  that  he  had  happened  upon  a 
man  who  had  been  Richard's  servant,  omitting  the 
details  of  the  meeting,  had  heard  that  Richard  was 
safe  and  in  good  health,  and  hoped  to  discover  him 
on  his  return  from  Hudson's  Bay.  To  Mr.  Dariza 
he  treated  the  subject  at  greater  length,  though  with 
no  more  particularity. 

There  were  several  great  personages  interested  in 
the  expedition,  and  by  these  young  Drurie  was  treated 
with  flattering  consideration.  The  wealthy  baronet 
who  had  known  the  captain  in  the  old  days  had  given 
Francis  a  great  name  as  a  soldier.  More  to  the  young 
man's  taste  than  the  great  folk,  however,  were  the 
gentlemen  who,  like  himself,  intended  risking  their 


118  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

lives  as  well  as  their  money  in  the  expedition.  There 
were  a  dozen  of  these  in  all,  including  himself  and  not 
counting  the  hired  sailing-masters. 

The  daring  little  fleet  consisted  of  four  vessels. 
Drurie's  was  the  Brave  Adventure,  a  stout  craft  of 
something  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  tons,  two-masted, 
square-rigged  on  the  fore,  and  with  boom  and  gaff- 
topsail  on  the  main.  In  addition,  she  could  spread 
three  jibs,  staysails  between  the  fore  and  main,  stunsails, 
and  a  little  spinnaker. 

Any  one  with  half  an  eye  for  such  things  could  see 
that  she  would  be  a  sweet  sailer.  She  was  heavily 
ironed,  as  well  as  heavily  canvased  for  her  size.  So 
quickly  does  pride  in  one's  ship  spring  in  the  heart 
that  Francis  had  not  been  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure 
twice  before  he  thought  her  the  finest  craft  in  the 
port  of  Bristol.  On  May  Day,  early  in  the  morning, 
the  little  ships  drifted  out,  one  by  one,  amid  the  cheering 
of  sailors  and  landsmen,  the  booming  of  cannon,  and 
the  flapping  of  flags. 

Back  in  Virginia  the  humdrum  round  of  quiet 
pleasures  and  mild  excitements,  such  as  hunting  and 
dancing,  was  disturbed  for  our  friends  of  the  three 
plantations  soon  after  Francis  Drurie's  departure. 
Early  in  April  Mr.  Dariza  became,  of  a  sudden, 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       119 

flighty  in  his  mind.  His  daughter  and  his  body-servant 
were  the  first  to  notice  it. 

They  did  their  best  to  keep  knowledge  of  it  from 
others,  and  were  successful  to  a  certain  extent.  The 
first  hint  received  by  Isobel  and  the  servant  of  the 
unhinged  condition  of  the  old  gentleman's  mind  was 
in  this  manner.  Dariza  called  for  the  girl  early  one 
morning,  before  he  was  out  of  bed.  Max  was  in  the 
room,  preparing  the  razor  for  his  master's  shave. 

"When  d'ye  expect  Dick?"  asked  the  frail  old 
gentleman. 

"Dick?"  cried  the  girl  faintly,  her  face  going 
white  as  paper. 

"  Aye,  Dick.  He  wrote  that  he  would  soon  be 
home  and  would  stay  with  us  for  a  month  or  two," 
replied  her  father. 

Max  let  the  razor  fall  to  the  floor. 

Isobel  went  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and  took  her 
father's  hands  in  hers.  "  I  do  not  expect  him  before 
June,"  she  said. 

Dariza  sank  back  on  his  pillow  without  a  word. 
That  morning  he  did  not  get  up  for  breakfast.  Later 
in  the  day  he  talked  sanely  and  kindly  to  the  girl  about 
Francis  Drurie.  In  the  evening,  however,  after  he 
had  retired,  he  called  his  son's  name  three  times. 

A  few  days  after  that  he  complained  of  feeling  too 


120  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

tired  to  leave  his  bed.  A  doctor  was  brought  from 
King's  Haven  —  the  best  in  the  colony.  He  said  that 
Mr.  Dariza  had  a  fever  in  his  blood;  so  he  drew  off 
a  considerable  quantity  of  blood,  and  a  deal  of  the 
fever  with  it,  he  said,  mixed  a  bottle  of  evil- tasting 
doses,  dined  with  Isobel,  and  jogged  home  in  time  for 
supper. 

It  was  always  in  the  early  morning  or  at  night  that 
Dariza  showed  signs  of  a  weakening  mind.  During 
the  height  of  the  day  he  talked  sanely  enough  of  things 
great  and  small.  But  the  fever  in  his  blood  did  not 
cool.  He  kept  to  his  bed  for  more  than  a  week  after 
the  doctor's  visit  —  and  then  it  was  the  most  unex- 
pected and  amazing  incident  that  got  him  out  of  it. 

Isobel  was  in  her  room,  kneeling  at  a  window  that 
faced  the  east  —  the  same  window  at  which  Francis 
had  gazed  from  the  lawn  on  the  magic  morning.  She 
was  dreaming  of  that  morning  now,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  A  moment  before  she  had  been  praying  —  a 
wordless,  almost  unconscious  prayer  —  the  petition  of  a 
frightened  and  longing  heart  for  the  safety  of  its  mate. 

Now  peace  was  hers,  as  if  her  prayer  had  been 
answered.  With  the  vague  fear  quiet,  she  called  the 
image  of  her  distant  lover  to  her,  across  those  tumbling 
wastes  of  sea,  turned  time  back,  and  lived  again  that 
marvellous  night  and  morning.  She  was  disturbed  by 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives 

the  sound  of  trotting  hoofs  and  rolling  wheels.  The 
dear  visions  drifted  from  her  eyes.  She  stood  up  and 
looked  indifferently  from  the  window. 

She  saw  a  shabby,  mud-bespattered  carriage  draw 
up  beside  the  three  stone  steps  at  the  foot  of  the  ter- 
raced lawn.  The  horses,  as  well  as  the  carriage,  were 
unknown  to  her.  Perhaps  it  was  the  doctor,  travelling 
the  muddy  roads  hi  a  hired  conveyance  to  save  his 
own.  She  dried  her  eyes  swiftly  and  ran  down  to  the 
hall.  The  old  butler  and  Max  were  already  there,  and 
the  door  was  open. 

Isobel  and  the  two  old  servants  stood  on  the  gallery 
and  looked  out,  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do,  dis- 
quieted and  yet  as  inactive  as  if  under  a  spell.  They 
saw  the  driver  descend  from  the  box,  open  the  carriage 
door,  and  pull  from  the  interior  two  large  boxes. 

Then  a  tall  gentleman  in  a  long  black  cloak  and 
wide  black  hat,  stepped  from  the  darkness  into  the 
failing  sunshine. 

He  looked  about  him;  and  it  was  as  if  the  group 
on  the  gallery  felt  the  quick  glance  that  they  could  not 
see.  With  a  gesture  of  the  hand  toward  the  boxes,  and  a 
toss  back  of  the  cloak  that  brought  to  view  a  scarlet 
lining,  he  advanced  deliberately  on  the  house. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  whispered  Isobel,  strangely 
agitated. 


122  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"Th'  debbel  hisself,  I  reckon,"  muttered  the 
butler. 

Now  the  stranger  bowed  and  swooped  his  great 
hat  from  his  head,  disclosing  to  the  fascinated  regard 
of  the  group  on  the  gallery  a  thin,  dark  face,  eyes  like 
black  crystals,  and  an  elaborate  black  wig. 

The  two  old  servants  drew  back,  leaving  their 
mistress  alone  at  the  top  of  the  gallery  steps.  The 
stranger  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  again 
bowed  impressively,  hat  in  hand. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  my  father,  sir?  "  asked  Isobel 
falteringly. 

"  Ah,  beyond  a  doubt.  That  is,  if  I  have  the  honour 
to  address  the  daughter  of  the  Senor  Ricardo  Alcazardo 
da  Riza,"  returned  the  gentleman,  smiling  a  slow, 
wonderful  smile  that  told  of  hope,  joy,  doubt,  and 
courage.  It  was  such  a  remarkable  smile  that  the  girl 
became  more  agitated  than  ever. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  staring  at  the  stranger  with  startled 
eyes. 

He  ascended  the  steps  and  stood  beside  her.  "  My 
name  is  Josef  Alcazardo,"  he  said  tenderly.  And 
then :  "  Lift  a  great  care  from  my  heart  by  telling  me 
that  your  beloved  father  is  in  good  health,"  he  added 
softly,  anxiously. 

"  You  are  a  friend  of  his,  perhaps?    Please  come  in, 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       123 

sir,"  said  Isobel,  with  something  of  her  usual  com- 
posure. 

*'  Yes,"  replied  Josef  Alcazardo.  He  followed  the 
girl  into  the  hall.  His  black  eyes  darted  this  way  and 
that  and  seemed  to  penetrate  into  the  surrounding 
rooms. 

The  girl  beckoned  to  the  old  butler,  who  had  re- 
treated to  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room  door. 

"  Show  this  gentleman  to  the  library,"  she  said. 
She  turned  to  Alcazardo  and  looked  him  fairly  and 
searchingly  in  the  face.  He  received  the  scrutiny  with 
steady  eyes  and  a  pensive  smile.  "  My  father  is  not 
well.  I  will  tell  him  that  the  Sefior  Josef  Alcazardo  is 
here." 

The  stranger  looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  speak  — 
to  offer  some  suggestion.  The  girl  noticed  this,  and 
waited.  "  Yes,  tell  him  so.  Tell  him  I  regret  his 
illness  —  and  that  I  long  to  clasp  his  hand,"  said 
Alcazardo  haltingly. 

Isobel  hurried  to  her  father's  room  and  found  Max 
already  there.  Dariza  was  sitting  up  in  the  bed, 
with  an  expression  of  keen  anxiety  on  his  haggard 
face. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Who  has  come  to  see 
me?  Can  it  be  some  evil  tidings  of  Dick— or  of 
Frank  Drurie  ?  " 


124  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  I  do  not  know.  His  name  is  Josef  Alcazardo," 
replied  the  girl. 

"Alcazardo!  Heaven  help  me!"  cried  Dariza, 
with  something  of  distress,  but  more  of  incredulity 
in  his  voice. 

Isobel  turned  to  Max.  "  Tell  the  gentleman  to  go 
away.  Tell  him  that  he  cannot  see  the  master,"  she 
said. 

"No!  Wait!  Hold,  fellow!  "  cried  Dariza.  "Tell 
him  to  come  up,  whoever  he  is.  Ill  or  well,  why  should 
I  fear  Josef  Alcazardo  ?  " 

The  servant  left  the  room. 

Isobel  took  her  father's  hands  in  hers.  "Is  he  an 
enemy  —  an  old  enemy?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  enmity  —  or  with  fear?  " 
returned  the  old  man  unsteadily.  "  My  days  are 
numbered;  but,  if  need  be,  Ricardo  da  Riza  can  still 
strike.  Leave  the  room,  my  dear,  and  let  me  speak 
alone  to  this  belated  visitor." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  whispered  the  girl. 

Dariza  pointed  at  a  pistol  that  lay  on  the  table  close 
to  his  hand,  between  a  glass  of  water  and  the  bottle 
of  doctor's  stuff. 

"  You  need  not  fear,"  he  said  significantly. 

Isobel  went  into  the  passage.  The  stranger  passed 
her  with  a  bow,  entered  the  bedroom  and  closed  the 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       125 

door  behind  him.  The  girl  and  Max  stood  close  to 
the  threshold,  listening  anxiously.  The  girl  listened 
for  the  sound  of  a  pistol-shot  —  the  old  servant  for 
he  knew  not  what.  They  could  hear  nothing. 

So  they  waited  for  ten  to  fifteen  minutes;  then, 
unable  to  stand  the  suspense  any  longer,  Isobel  opened 
the  door.  She  found  her  father  sitting  up  and  the 
stranger  in  an  armchair  pulled  close  to  the  bed.  Al- 
cazardo  was  leaning  forward,  his  right  hand  clasped 
in  that  of  Dariza.  The  invalid's  cheeks  were  flushed 
and  his  eyes  were  shining. 

The  girl  stood  on  the  threshold,  staring  with  open 
amazement  at  the  friendly  scene.  Both  men  looked  up. 

"  Come  in,  my  dear,"  said  her  father.  "  Come  here 
and  welcome  my  long-estranged  brother  —  your  Uncle 
Josef  —  to  Hopeland." 

Isobel  did  not  move,  but  continued  to  gaze  at  the 
two  in  anxious  bewilderment.  What  did  it  mean? 
Had  her  poor  father  gone  entirely  mad?  What  wild 
talk  was  this  of  a  brother  from  one  who  had  turned 
his  back  on  every  member  of  his  family  or  had  their 
backs  turned  upon  him,  forty  years  ago  ? 

"Come,"  said  Dariza.  "You  must  make  your 
uncle  welcome.  He  has  put  himself  to  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  and  expense  to  find  me.  His  heart  is  right. 
You  have  nothing  to  fear,  Isobel." 


126  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Alcazardo  arose  from  his  chair  and  moved  forward, 
smiling  gently  and  affectionately,  his  hand  extended. 
"  Yes,  you  must  welcome  me,  my  dear  little  kins- 
woman," he  said.  "  And  as  for  fear  —  what  have  you 
to  fear  from  your  peaceful  old  Uncle  Josef  ?  " 

The  girl  placed  her  hand  in  his,  and  he  raised  it 
gallantly  to  his  lips. 

"  Now,  that  is  better,"  he  said.  "  We  shall  soon  be 
fast  friends,  I  see.  And  why  not?  I  have  come  a 
long  journey  to  find  your  dear  father,  that  a  mistake  — 
an  estrangement  —  of  our  youth  might  not  go  to  our 
graves  with  us.  Yes,  I  tremble  at  that  thought.  It 
was  a  mad  thing  —  a  blind,  devilish  thing  —  and  the 
work  of  others.  But  let  it  die !  Let  it  be  forgotten,  as 
it  has  been  forgiven  by  both  of  us." 

He  patted  the  girl  on  the  shoulder  and  smiled  tenderly 
at  the  gentleman  in  the  bed. 

"  Yes,  let  it  be  forgotten,"  said  Dariza.  "  Thank 
Heaven  you  are  here,  Josef,  and  that  we  are  brothers 
again.  Thank  Heaven  you  could  explain  the  thing  — 
and  had  the  kind  heart  to  travel  all  this  way  to  do  so." 
He  lay  back  on  his  pillows,  breathing  quickly. 

His  brother  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment,  raising  his 
head  a  little  with  one  arm  and  holding  the  glass  of 
water  to  his  lips.  At  sight  of  that  quick  tenderness, 
the  girl's  heart  thrust  away  all  doubt  and  fear  of  him. 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       127 

Dariza  was  better  in  a  moment.  It  had  been  nothing 
but  a  little  pain  in  the  side.  But  Alcazardo  would  not 
let  him  sit  up  again. 

"  What  was  the  dreadful  misunderstanding  ?  "  asked 
Isobel. 

"  You  could  make  nothing  of  it,  even  if  we  told 
you,"  said  Alcazardo.  "  The  events  —  yes,  and  the 
persons  —  who  were  at  the  bottom  of  it,  are  all  dead 
now.  It  had  to  do  with  great  people  and  small  people, 
my  dear  little  girl  —  even  with  a  king,  and  armies, 
and  all  manner  of  uncomfortable  things.  But  the 
king  is  dead,  now,  and  the  liars  who  made  the  trouble 
are  dead  —  and  here  am  I  sitting  by  my  brother's 
bed,  very  much  at  peace.  So  worry  no  more  about  the 
old  mistake,  my  dear." 

Sefior  Alcazardo  seemed  to  act  like  a  tonic  on  Mr. 
Dariza.  Within  an  hour  of  his  arrival,  his  brother 
was  dressed  and  down-stairs.  A  servant  was  sent  over 
to  Fairwood  Manor  to  invite  Mr.  Fairwood  to  supper. 
A  stir  of  activity  and  curiosity  went  through  the  house 
and  offices,  and  even  back  to  the  quarters  of  the  field- 
hands,  and  the  servants  babbled  excitedly  over  the 
sudden  and  unexpected  appearance  of  a  gentleman 
who  was  the  master's  brother,  and  the  mistress's 
uncle,  and  yet  whose  name  and  of  whose  existence 
they  had  never  before  heard. 


128  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Mr.  Fairwood  came  to  supper.  When  he  heard  the 
remarkable  news  from  his  brother-in-law,  he  swore 
his  astonishment  and  incredulity.  When  he  was 
presented  to  the  senor,  he  stared  at  him  aghast. 

Then  he  turned  angrily  upon  Dariza.  "  See  here, 
Dick,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  like  this!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  What  is  it  that  you  don't  like,  my  dear  Henry," 
asked  Dariza. 

"  Oh,  of  course  it  is  correct  and  above-board,  if 
you  say  so,"  replied  Fairwood.  "  If  you  say  he  is 
your  brother,  why,  he  must  be.  But  I've  always  been 
led  to  believe  that  they  were  all  a  bad  lot;  and  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  like  to  be  forced  into  so  sudden  a  friend- 
ship with  a  gentleman  I  don't  know  and  don't  like  the 
looks  of." 

Mr.  Dariza  and  Isobel  were  horrified  by  the  other's 
frankness,  and  could  not  find  a  word  to  say  or  the 
courage  to  look  at  Alcazardo. 

Alcazardo's  reply,  however,  amazed  them  even  more 
than  Fairwood's  attack. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  my  kinship  with  your 
friend  Richard,"  he  said  quietly,  with  sad  eyes  turned 
upon  the  bluff  Virginian. 

"  But  I  do  not  blame  you  for  feeling  somewhat 
shaken  and  angered  by  this  sudden  call  upon  you  to 
take  an  utter  stranger  —  aye,  and  a  foreigner  —  by  the 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       129 

hand,"  he  continued.  "  You  have  heard  evil  things 
of  this  Spanish  family.  Well,  sir,  many  of  those  things 
are  true.  Richard,  noble  soul,  left  his  lands  and  his 
country  rather  than  join  in  the  evil.  I  was  young  then, 
and  believed  the  lies  that  were  told  to  me.  But  now 
I  know  my  mistake,  and  Richard  knows  how  it  came 
about.  I  can  only  hope,  sir,  that  you  will  soon  under- 
stand me,  and  feel  no  longer  any  uneasiness  about 
taking  my  hand." 

Mr.  Dariza  was  delighted  and  amazed  at  this 
speech.  Forty  years  ago  Josef  had  shown  no  signs  of 
this  Christian  spirit.  Far  from  it. 

Mr.  Fairwood  did  not  seem  to  be  so  well  pleased, 
though  he  was  completely  disarmed  by  the  Spaniard's 
attitude.  "  Rip  me,  but  you  talk  more  like  a  saint  than 
a  don,"  he  grumbled. 

If  any  one  had  been  watching  Alcazardo  at  that 
moment,  he  would  have  seen  a  flicker  of  apprehension 
pass  across  the  black  eyes. 

The  supper  passed  off  very  well.  Alcazardo  told 
some  capital  stories,  witty  enough  for  Mr.  Fairwood  and 
delicate  enough  for  Isobel.  It  was  quite  evident  that, 
though  a  man  of  the  world,  he  was  possessed  of  a 
very  tender  heart.  After  supper  he  sang. 

For  Mr.  Fairwood,  he  rendered  an  English  hunting- 
song  with  such  dash  and  vigour  that  the  Virginian 


130  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

forgot  his  distrust  so  far  as  to  join  in  the  chorus.  For 
Isobel  and  his  brother  he  sang  a  plaintive  Spanish 
love  song  that  touched  them  both  to  tears.  Then  he  ex- 
cused himself  for  a  moment,  left  the  room,  and  pres- 
ently returned  with  a  violin. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  wine-red  coat  and  breeches, 
and  a  long  waistcoat  of  white  and  gold.  Instead  of 
showing  his  own  hair,  he  wore  a  fine  black  wig  that 
reached  to  his  shoulders.  As  he  stood,  tall  and  slen- 
der, with  his  back  to  the  hearth  and  the  candles 
on  the  chimney-piece,  he  looked  handsome  and  sinis- 
ter. He  raised  the  violin  to  his  breast  and  nestled 
his  chin  to  it.  The  bow  touched  the  strings  inquir- 
ingly. 

Then  his  right  hand  began  to  weave  and  lift,  flicker 
and  sink,  about  the  dark  and  glowing  instrument,  and 
into  the  silent  room  flooded  such  a  wonder  of  melody 
that  Dariza  forgot  his  sorrow  and  Isobel  her  longing, 
and  the  sturdy  Fairwood  sat  back  in  his  chair  like  a 
man  in  a  trance. 

Now,  without  a  pause  or  break,  the  music  changed  in 
tone  and  rang  louder.  Then  days  of  riding  and  fighting 
came  back  to  Dariza,  and  Fairwood  remembered  the 
two  years  in  which  he  had  served  as  a  cornet  in  an 
English  cavalry  regiment,  and  Isobel  saw  her  lover 
adventuring  on  the  sea,  with  his  sword  at  his  side, 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       131 

and  powder-smoke  on  the  water,  and  the  black  ship 
of  the  enemy  settling  to  leeward.  It  was  the  psalm 
of  valour,  by  magic  purged  of  fear  and  regret.  And 
again  the  music  changed. 

Dariza  covered  his  face  with  his  thin  hands.  Fair- 
wood  puckered  his  brows,  his  heart  turning  through 
dusky  ways  after  faces  long  forgotten. 

And  the  girl  remembered  again  the  wastes  of  tum- 
bling sea  between  this  bright  room  and  her  young 
lover. 

Next  day,  the  gentlemen  of  Admiral's  Pride  came  to 
Hopeland  to  pay  their  respects  to  Sefior  Alcazardo. 
They  had  already  heard  something  about  him  from 
Henry  Fairwood;  and  the  only  complimentary  thing 
Fairwood  had  said  was,  "  He  plays  the  fiddle  like  the 
devil  himself." 

So  they  eyed  the  stranger  keenly,  even  while  they 
shook  his  hand.  The  captain  wondered  what  the 
fellow  was  after.  It  was  his  opinion  that  a  man  who 
has  let  a  mistake  go  uncorrected  for  a  matter  of  forty 
years  does  not  travel  from  Spam  to  Virginia,  at 
last,  for  no  more  substantial  reason  than  to  set  it 
right. 

His  first  thought  was  that  Alcazardo  wanted  money. 
No  doubt  the  fellow  had  heard,  in  some  roundabout 
way,  that  his  estranged  brother  was  very  comfortably 


132  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

situated.  But  the  captain  was  not  so  crude  in  his 
methods  as  Mr.  Fairwood.  With  a  bland  smile,  and 
a  question  now  and  then,  he  went  to  work  to  discover 
the  Spaniard's  reason  for  visiting  Virginia. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ISOBEL  SAILS  AWAY 

CAPTAIN  DRURIE  learned,  by  his  questions  and  obser- 
vation, that  Alcazardo  was  in  no  need  of  money.  He 
was  handsomely  outfitted  with  both  clothing  and 
jewelry,  and  had  a  store  of  gold  coins  with  which  he 
was  remarkably  free. 

He  had  crossed  the  sea  without  a  servant.  That 
seemed  strange  to  every  one.  The  Spaniard  said  very 
little  about  himself,  and  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  most 
modest  of  men;  but,  in  the  course  of  the  first  few  days 
of  his  visit,  he  let  people  know  that  he  was  the  owner  of 
a  house  in  Madrid,  and  of  another  in  the  country. 

Questioned  briefly  by  Dariza,  he  said  that  he  held 
none  of  the  old  family  possessions  —  that  all  those  lands 
and  houses  had  been  squandered  by  the  other  brothers 
—  but  that  his  own  little  property  represented  a  lifetime 
of  activity  in  the  service  of  his  country.  All  of  which 
sounded  very  fine  —  to  everybody  but  Henry  Fair- 
wood. 

He,  doubting  gentleman,  did  not  believe  a  word  of 
133 


134  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

it,  and  ignored  the  visitor  completely  and  loftily  except 
on  such  occasions  as  the  violin  was  at  work.  One 
might  continue  to  hate  and  distrust  Alcazardo  even 
when  he  was  making  music;  but  no  one  could  ignore 
him  then.  He  was  a  marvel  with  the  fiddle  —  and  even 
Mr.  Fairwood  had  to  admit  it. 

Isobel  was  attracted  by  her  new  uncle,  although 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  like  his  face.  His  eyes, 
at  times,  contained  an  inner,  sinister  light  that  chilled 
her  to  the  heart  in  spite  of  her  knowledge  of  his  gentle- 
ness. That  he  was  gentle  there  could  be  no  doubt. 
The  girl  had  seen  him  flinch  at  the  sight  of  a  driver 
lashing  a  stubborn  horse. 

He  devoted  himself  to  his  brother's  service,  cheering 
him  with  entertaining  conversation,  reading  aloud  to 
him,  and  even  watching  beside  his  bed  at  night  on 
more  than  one  occasion. 

His  manner  was  forbearing  with  every  one.  Even 
to  the  servants  he  showed  a  consideration  that  was 
charming  to  see  —  in  spite  of  which  not  one  of  them 
had  a  good  word  for  him.  Indeed,  the  old  butler  and 
Max  hated  and  feared  him  to  such  an  extent  that  their 
black  faces  faded  to  the  hue  of  ashes  whenever  he 
looked  at  them. 

Isobel  admired  him  and  believed  in  him,  in  spite 
of  the  sinister  light  she  sometimes  caught  in  his  glance, 


Isobel  Sails  Away  135 

the  whispering  of  the  servants,  and  Uncle  Henry's 
snorts  of  scorn.  She  felt  that  she  and  her  father  under- 
stood him  and  that  the  others  did  not.  The  captain 
and  John  were  almost  as  suspicious  of  him  as  were 
Uncle  Henry  and  the  butler  and  the  valet.  But  this, 
she  said,  was  simply  because  they  were  men. 

Men,  no  matter  of  what  colour  or  class,  always 
look  askance  at  other  men  of  a  different  kind  than 
themselves,  or  of  a  kind  to  which  they  are  not  accus- 
tomed. Had  Alcazardo  been  an  Englishman,  and 
skilled  in  fox-hunting  instead  of  in  violin- playing,  and 
loud  of  voice  instead  of  quiet,  the  foolish  men  would 
have  accepted  him  with  delight.  She  said  that  this  was 
proved  by  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Drurie  admired  the  senor. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Isobel  had,  as  far  as  she  could  see, 
very  good  reasons  for  holding  Josef  Alcazardo  in  high 
esteem.  His  attitude  toward  her  was  one  of  unfailing 
affection  and  consideration;  and  one  day,  finding  her 
alone  in  the  library,  he  had  talked  to  her  of  Francis 
Drurie. 

This  alone  would  have  been  enough  to  win  the  girl's 
favour,  for  his  talk  had  been  so  hopeful,  so  tender,  and 
so  congratulatory,  that  she  had  quite  forgotten  the 
sinister  gleam  in  his  eyes.  He,  who  had  never  set 
eyes  on  Francis,  had  talked  of  him  with  understanding 
and  admiration. 


136  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

As  for  poor  Mr.  Dariza,  he  fairly  doted  on  the  Sefior 
Josef  Alcazardo.  It  was  a  wonder  even  to  Isobel,  to 
see  and  hear  her  father  —  for  she  could  not  forget  the 
way  he  had  first  received  the  news  of  the  Spaniard's 
arrival.  Morning,  noon,  and  night,  he  was  ever  eager 
to  listen  to  Josef.  Josef's  presence  in  the  house  seemed 
to  keep  the  good  gentleman  in  a  continual  flutter  of 
pleasurable  excitement.  Weak  and  worn  as  he  was, 
he  would  not  stay  in  his  bed  even  long  enough  to  have 
his  breakfast  there.  No,  he  must  be  up  and  at  his 
post,  so  as  not  to  miss  a  word  or  gesture  of  the  admirable 
Josef. 

The  thing  was  amazing  and  far  from  sane.  The 
fact  that  the  poor  gentleman  no  longer  asked  about 
Dick  was  a  sign  that  this  absorption  in  Alcazardo  was 
largely  due  to  the  flighty  state  of  his  mind.  The 
flightiness  had  shifted,  that  was  all. 

Alcazardo  saw  and  understood,  and  acted  accord- 
ingly. He  had  suspected  his  brother's  mental  derange- 
ment in  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting.  Now  he 
was  sure  of  it,  and  knew  how  to  play  upon  the  weaken- 
ing heart  and  mind  even  as  upon  the  slender  strings 
and  frail  wood  of  his  violin. 

Though  the  girl  was  sane  enough,  he  read  her 
weakness,  too.  Her  weakness  was  entirely  of  the 
heart  —  and  in  the  wound  he  saw  the  image  of  a 


Isobel  Sails  Away  137 

certain  young  gentleman  adventurer  named  Francis 
Drurie.  So,  to  the  girl,  he  often  spoke  of  the  brave 
young  fellow  who  was,  even  now,  facing  peril  on  the 
deep  for  the  sake  of  the  woman  he  loved;  but  he 
always  spoke  hopefully,  as  if  of  every  hundred  men 
who  went  seafaring  a  hundred  returned. 

"  I  know  the  sea,"  he  would  say.  "  I  have  sailed 
many  a  voyage  myself,  here  and  there."  And  once, 
to  cheer  her  out  of  an  anxious  mood,  he  bade  her 
consider  the  master  and  the  butler  of  Admiral's  Pride. 
"  They  have  weathered  many  a  storm  and  many  a 
battle,"  he  said,  "  and  yet  the  captain  has  suffered 
nothing  worse  than  a  bullet  in  the  leg  and  the  old 
gunner's-mate  is  as  sound  as  a  bell." 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  girl  grew  to  like 
and  trust  the  man  who  was  ever  quick  to  read  her  fears 
and  quiet  them? 

Mr.  Dariza  made  a  new  will.  His  wife  had  left 
one  concerning  the  property  that  had  come  from  her 
side  of  the  house  and  to  which  he  had  always  refused  to 
put  forward  any  claim.  In  spite  of  his  growing  weak- 
ness this  will  he  refused  to  tamper  with.  At  the  time 
of  his  marriage  he  had  legally  vested  his  wife  with  all 
the  rights  of  what  was  known  in  those  days  as  an 
"  heiress,  "  and,  according  to  these  rights,  she  had 
made  her  will. 


138  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

She  had  left  everything  in  trust  to  her  two  children, 
the  father  to  have  full  control  during  his  life,  and,  if  he 
should  die  before  either  the  boy  or  the  girl  was  of 
age,  the  control  of  the  lands  and  moneys  was  to  pass 
into  the  hands  of  her  brother,  Henry  Fairwood.  This 
will  had  already  been  given  to  Mr.  Fairwood  by  Mr. 
Dariza,  a  week  before  Alcazardo's  arrival.  But  Rich- 
ard Dariza  was  a  man  of  considerable  property  in  his 
own  right. 

Back  of  the  tobacco-fields  of  Hopeland  —  Hopeland 
itself  was  already  disposed  of  by  the  wife's  will  —  he 
possessed  many  square  miles  of  heavily  timbered 
wilderness,  some  of  which  had  been  granted  to  him 
by  the  Crown  and  some  purchased  with  his  own  money. 
Also,  he  owned  a  small  fortune  which  was  deposited 
with  a  London  banking-house,  and  shares  hi  several 
trading-ships.  He  had  not  left  Spain  empty-handed, 
in  the  days  of  his  youth. 

So  Richard  Dariza,  gentleman,  of  Hopeland,  Kings 
County,  Virginia,  made  a  new  will.  A  lawyer  came 
from  King's  Haven  to  draw  it  up;  and  it  was  wit- 
nessed by  John  Drurie,  Josef  Alcazardo,  and  the  good 
doctor,  who  thought  that  nothing  more  was  the  matter 
with  his  patient  than  a  "  fever  of  the  blood." 

Richard  Dariza  died  at  nine  o'clock  of  the  evening 
of  the  tenth  of  June.  He  died  hi  his  library,  in  a  chair 


Isobel  Sails  Away  139 

by  the  open  window,  with  his  daughter's  hand  in  his 
and  his  brother  talking  gently  of  the  little  Spanish 
village,  in  the  castle  above  which  they  had  both  been 
born. 

Death  came  so  softly,  so  swiftly,  that  Alcazardo 
went  on  with  his  story;  but  Isobel  bent  forward  and 
peered  into  her  father's  face,  startled  by  a  sudden  move- 
ment of  the  head  against  the  back  of  the  chair. 

The  girl's  grief  was  intense.  At  first  she  could  not 
believe  that  her  father's  spirit  had  slipped  away,  but 
knelt  beside  the  chair,  calling  him  again  and  again 
and  clasping  the  cold  and  nerveless  hands. 

The  old  butler  entered  the  room,  carrying  a  branched 
candlestick  with  lighted  candles  in  each  hand. 

Alcazardo  went  quickly  forward,  took  the  candles 
from  him  and  placed  them  on  the  table. 

"  My  worthy  fellow,"  he  said,  very  gently  and  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  "  your  good  master  has  passed 
away." 

The  old  negro  stared  at  him,  far  too  greatly  dis- 
turbed by  his  address  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
the  words.  He  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  shuffled 
backward  a  step  or  two. 

"  Your  master  is  dead,"  said  Alcazardo,  a  trifle 
louder  than  before  and  a  shade  less  gently. 

"  God  hab  mercy!     Lord  hab  mercy! "  cried  the 


140  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

butler;  and,  turning,  he  ran  from  the  library,  filling 
the  house  with  outcry  like  that  of  a  stricken  animal. 

The  other  servants  gathered  to  him.  Their  voices 
rang  shrill  through  that  house  of  death. 

Alcazardo,  cursing  the  blacks  hi  his  heart,  went 
back  to  the  chair  where  the  girl  still  knelt  by  the  dead 
man.  He  put  his  right  arm  about  the  girl's  shoulders. 

"  Come,  dear,"  he  whispered.  "  Come  away  to 
your  room.  Be  brave.  You  must  not  stay  here, 
Isobel." 

Without  a  word,  she  got  slowly  to  her  feet.  His  arm 
around  her,  holding  her  close  and  firm,  he  helped  her 
from  the  room.  They  crossed  the  unlit  hall  slowly. 

At  the  foot  of  the  great  stairs  old  Max,  Dariza's 
body-servant,  sprang  up  in  front  of  them.  He  stood 
so  for  a  moment,  glaring  close  into  the  Spaniard's 
face;  then  he  slunk  back  against  the  wall. 

As  they  passed  the  old  fellow,  Alcazardo  looked  over 
his  shoulder  at  him  with  that  in  his  eyes  that  tore  every 
fibre  of  courage  in  the  African's  heart.  Isobel  saw 
nothing  of  all  this,  for  her  face  was  hidden  against  her 
uncle's  shoulder. 

Alcazardo  supported  the  girl  to  the  door  of  her 
room.  Then  he  went  quietly  to  his  brother's  room, 
took  the  pistol  from  the  table  and  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket,  and  returned  to  the  library. 


Isobel  Sails  Away  141 

Six  of  the  servants  —  two  women  and  four  men  — 
were  in  the  library,  squatting  around  the  chair  in 
which  the  dead  gentleman  sat  as  naturally  as  in  life, 
but  now  heedless  of  their  grief  and  devotion,  and  staring 
over  their  heads  with  blank  eyes.  They  cried  aloud  — 
and  their  voices  sounded  less  than  human. 

Alcazardo  had  heard  this  same  bestial  noise  in  the 
depths  of  tropical  jungles.  His  gorge  rose  in  his 
throat,  and  a  hot  devilish  desire  to  spring  upon  these 
childish,  foolish,  primitive  people  and  beat  them  until 
the  blood  should  gush  from  their  black  hides  shook 
him  from  head  to  foot. 

Did  he  give  way  to  this  diabolical  urging  of  the 
senses?  No.  Josef  Alcazardo  never  lost  control  of 
himself  unless  he  chose  to.  He  paused  on  the  threshold 
for  a  second  or  two,  breathing  quickly,  his  eyes  on  fire 
and  his  lean  face  horribly  distorted.  Then,  calm  and 
grave  of  face,  with  downcast  eyes  and  reverent  de- 
meanour, he  advanced  into  the  room.  Catching  sight 
of  him,  the  servants  ceased  their  wailing  and  scrambled 
to  their  feet. 

"  You  will  try  to  be  quiet,  I  am  sure,  for  the  sake 
of  your  poor  young  mistress,"  said  Josef.  "  The  sound 
of  your  grief  disturbs  her.  Two  of  you  must  carry 
your  master's  body  to  his  bed,  and  one  go  to  Mr. 
Fairwood  and  to  Admiral's  Pride  with  the  sad  news." 


142  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

No  word  was  spoken  in  answer;  but  four  of  the 
blacks  hurried  from  the  room.  The  old  butler  and  the 
old  body-servant  remained.  Alcazardo  stepped  close 
to  the  nerveless,  wide-eyed  thing  in  the  chair;  and  the 
two  old  men  shrank  away  from  him.  Their  fear  of 
him  was  as  clear  as  day  —  but  he  made  no  sign  of 
noticing  it.  He  bent  above  the  body,  tenderly  closed 
the  eyes  and  bandaged  them  with  a  silk  handkerchief. 
He  crossed  the  cold  hands  on  the  quiet  breast. 

Then,  kneeling,  he  began  to  pray  aloud  in  the  Latin 
tongue.  The  prayers  were  what  he  could  recall,  at 
so  short  a  notice,  of  a  religious  service  which  he  had 
neglected  for  over  forty  years.  But  what  matter  their 
meaning  so  long  as  they  were  voiced  in  words  unin- 
telligible to  his  audience?  He  made  the  holy  sign 
frequently.  He  bowed  his  head  almost  to  the  floor. 
Without  a  twinge  of  shame  or  fear,  and  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  befool  two  old  servants,  he  went  through 
a  travesty  of  religious  devotion  and  pleading. 

True,  the  prayers  did  not  happen  to  be  those  for  the 
dead;  but  what  matter?  They  were,  in  fact,  prayers 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving;  but  the  tone  of  grief  in 
his  voice,  and  the  strange  language  hi  wrhich  they  were 
spoken,  hid  their  real  nature  completely. 

At  last  he  rose.  One  hand  shading  his  eyes,  he 
motioned  with  the  other  to  the  spellbound  servants. 


Isobel  Sails  Away  143 

"  Take  the  poor  clay  up-stairs,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
that  shook. 

When  Mr.  Fairwood  reached  the  house  he  flung 
open  the  front  door  and  tramped  violently  into  the 
library,  heart  and  head  full  of  a  black  suspicion  of 
murder.  He  swore  roundly  at  finding  the  room  de- 
serted. He  dashed  up  the  stairs  and  into  Dariza's 
room,  as  if  to  question  the  poor  body  of  the  manner 
of  its  death.  But  he  halted  on  the  threshold,  and  all 
the  red  anger  went  out  of  his  big  face. 

The  body  of  his  friend  lay  straight  and  slim  in  the 
middle  of  the  great  bed,  covered  to  the  breast  with  a 
long,  black  cloth.  The  hands  were  pointed  upward  in 
the  dignified,  conventional  attitude  of  prayer.  The  face, 
no  longer  hidden  by  the  bandage,  wore  an  expression 
of  calm  severity  that  had  been  unknown  to  it  hi  life. 
A  candle  burned  at  the  head  and  the  feet;  and  midway 
of  the  bed  knelt  Isobel  with  her  back  to  the  door  and 
her  face  buried  in  the  pall. 

Mr.  Fairwood  had  known  that  his  friend  was  dead; 
but  he  had  not  realized  it  until  now.  Dead?  Lord, 
he  had  spoken  to  the  man  about  the  need  of  a  new 
fence  between  their  pastures  that  very  morning.  And 
now  look  at  him!  God  have  mercy  on  us!  A  man  is 
not  sure  of  his  next  meal  —  or  his  next  breath.  Heavens, 
what  a  grim,  strange  look  on  his  face!  And  what  is 


144  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

that  against  the  wall,  near  the  head  of  the  bed  ?  Is  it 
death?  No,  it  is  nothing  but  a  shadow.  Lord,  to 
think  that  poor  old  Dick  is  no  more  than  clay,  and  his 
immortal  soul  off  to  God  knows  where! 

Shaken  as  Mr.  Fairwood  was  by  the  sight  of  the 
quiet  dead  —  he  had  courage  enough  to  face  anything 
of  living  flesh  and  blood  —  he  did  not  obey  the  prompt- 
ings of  his  heart  and  hurry  from  the  room.  He  would 
have  done  so,  but  for  the  sight  of  the  desolate  girl. 
As  it  was,  he  stood  on  the  threshold  for  a  long  time 
muttering  strange  things  to  himself  and  trying  to  recover 
his  nerve ;  then  he  moved  forward,  strongly  but  slowly, 
like  a  soldier  marching  through  deep  mud,  straight 
up  to  the  bed.  With  a  choking  sigh,  he  bumped  down 
on  his  knees  beside  the  girl  and  flung  his  arm  around 
her.  She  nestled  close  to  him.  She  had  known  who 
it  was  at  the  first  sound  of  the  heavy,  honest  footsteps. 

The  doctor  came  from  King's  Haven  and  announced 
that  Dariza's  death  was  due  to  the  fever  in  his  blood 
having  suddenly  ascended  to  his  brain.  This  was 
reasonable  enough,  surely. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  second  day  after  the 
death.  People  came  in  from  the  surrounding  country 
to  attend  it,  a  distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  hi 
every  direction.  The  gentlemen  were  not  very  cordial 
to  Alcazardo,  taking  their  cue  from  Mr.  Fairwood 


Isobel  Sails  Away  145 

and  the  gentlemen  of  Admiral's  Pride.  The  Spaniard 
was  not  one  of  them.  There  seemed  something  sinister 
in  his  arrival  in  Virginia  so  shortly  previous  to  Dariza's 
death.  They  did  not  like  his  looks.  In  short,  they 
could  not  stomach  him,  despite  his  polite  and  mournful 
manners. 

When  the  contents  of  the  late  Richard  Dariza's 
will  became  known,  consternation  reigned  in  Fairwood 
Manor  and  Admiral's  Pride  —  more  especially  in 
Fairwood  Manor.  All  Dariza's  property  was  now  his 
son's  and  his  daughter's  —  his  daughter's  alone  in 
the  case  that  Richard  was  dead  or  could  not  be  found  — 
and  jor  two  years  every  penny  of  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Senor  Josef  Alcazar  do. 

There  was  the  rub!  For  these  two  years,  according 
to  the  will,  he  was  to  act  as  the  girl's  guardian;  but 
should  Richard  Fairwood  St.  George  Dariza  appear, 
the  property  was  to  be  at  once  divided,  and  not  only 
was  the  young  man  to  have  full  control  of  his  own 
share,  but  he  was  to  share  with  his  uncle  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  girl's,  for  the  aforementioned  term  of  two 
years,  or  for  such  fraction  of  that  time  as  still  remained 
after  his  appearance  or  discovery. 

Again,  if  Isobel  married  Francis  Drurie  within  two 
years  of  her  father's  death,  she  was  to  take  control  of 
her  property  immediately  upon  her  marriage.  This 


146  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

sounded  very  fine;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  there  was 
not  a  word  in  the  document  to  keep  Alcazardo  from 
disposing  of  every  pound  of  money  and  acre  of  land 
within  a  week  of  the  funeral.  The  game  was  in  his 
hands,  sure  enough. 

Mr.  Henry  Fairwood  took  the  Sefior  Josef  Alcazardo 
into  the  library,  closed  the  doors  and  the  windows, 
and  went  for  him  hot-tongued.  He  called  him  a  great 
many  things  that  are  not  fit  to  put  down  on  paper  - 
and  yet  he  did  not  tell  him  more  than  half  the  truth. 
He  called  him  a  liar,  a  sneak,  and  a  thief.  Well,  had 
he  only  known  it,  he  might  very  properly  have  gone 
on  to  much  worse.  He  shook  his  big  fist  under  the 
eagle  nose.  He  glared  into  the  black,  sinister  eyes. 
He  went  on  at  such  a  rate  that  Alcazardo  at  last  cried 
out,  with  a  dramatic  upfling  of  the  right  hand,  that 
honour  demanded  a  duel  to  the  death. 

Did  he  think  to  intimidate  old  Fairwood,  I  wonder  ? 
If  so,  there  he  made  a  grave  mistake.  Nothing  would 
please  the  old  man  better  than  an  excuse  for  attacking 
Alcazardo  with  pistol,  sword,  club,  or  empty  hands. 
That  was  what  he  was  working  for  and  had  been 
nursing  hi  his  mind  for  some  time.  If  the  other  could 
be  brought  to  a  duel,  it  was  even  chances  that  he  would 
kill  the  unprincipled  adventurer.  That  would  simplify 
everything.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  should  be  so 


Isobel  Sails  Away  147 

unfortunate  as  to  die  himself,  he  would  leave  good 
men,  such  as  Captain  Drurie,  behind  him,  and  Isobel 
and  her  property  would  be  in  no  more  danger  than  now. 

"A  fight  to  the  death!"  he  cried.  "Thank  God 
for  the  thought!  Come,  now,  stop  your  cursed  play- 
acting and  arrange  for  the  duel.  To-night  will  do, 
and  down  in  my  woodlands  is  a  pretty  place.  Drurie 
will  support  me  and  you  can  have  young  John.  There'll 
be  no  need  for  a  surgeon." 

That  changed  Alcazardo's  tune  as  quick  as  a  flash. 
That  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world  that  he  wanted. 
With  a  bullet  through  him,  where,  then,  would  be 
his  fine  plans  for  the  future?  Oh,  no,  he  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  running  the  risk  of  being  killed 
by  that  pig  of  a  Virginian.  That  would  be  a  poor 
reward  for  all  these  weeks  of  smirking  and  bowing  and 
play-acting. 

"  You  blind  yourself  to  my  position.  You  know 
that  I  cannot  fight  you,  with  this  sacred  charge  left 
to  me,"  he  replied  to  Fairwood.  "  I  spoke,  a  moment 
ago,  in  a  fit  of  stupid  temper.  I  cannot  fight  you." 

Nothing  that  Fairwood  could  say  or  do  could  bring 
about  a  duel.  He  raged  like  a  madman.  At  last  he 
told  Alcazardo  to  leave  the  house  within  the  hour, 
bag  and  baggage,  and  never  to  set  foot  in  it  again  on 
pain  of  being  shot  like  a  dangerous  hound. 


148  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  You'll  find  that  I  am  master  of  this  house,  by  a 
will  you  could  not  change,  you  white-livered  swine! " 
he  roared. 

Alcazardo  set  out  for  the  inn  at  King's  Haven  before 
the  hour  was  out;  but  ere  he  left,  told  Isobel  his  own 
little  story.  The  honest,  credulous  girl  looked  upon 
him  as  a  hero  and  a  martyr.  She  felt  that  her  father 
could  have  made  no  mistake  in  the  character  of  his 
brother.  Her  own  heart  told  her  that  he  was  to  be 
trusted. 

Immediately  upon  reaching  King's  Haven,  Al- 
cazardo wrote  a  long  and  wonderful  letter  to  his  ward, 
and  posted  it  to  her  after  nightfall,  by  one  of  the 
grooms  at  the  inn.  He  explained  the  impossibility 
of  his  staying  in  Virginia,  where  he  was  so  misunder- 
stood. He  could  not  leave  her,  however,  for  he  loved 
her  as  he  would  a  daughter  of  his  own.  Would  she 
sail  with  him  to  England  ? 

They  would  make  every  effort  to  discover  Richard 
in  case  he  still  lived;  and  there  they  would  welcome 
Francis  Drurie  on  his  return  from  the  northern  voyage. 
He  weighed  every  word  with  devilish  cunning;  and 
not  a  word  did  he  write  against  Mr.  Fairwood  or 
Captain  Drurie.  He  said  that  they  were  slow  to  extend 
friendship  to  a  man  of  a  different  blood  —  that  was 
all 


Isobel  Sails  Away  149 

Alcazardo  worked  in  the  dark.  Men  were  paid  to 
keep  quiet  about  his  moves.  He  seemed  to  have 
plenty  of  gold  with  which  to  buy  silence;  but  you 
may  be  sure  that  he  got  his  money's  worth.  He  sold 
the  woodlands  behind  the  Dariza  place,  very  secretly. 

One  fine  morning  in  July  Isobel  drove  to  King's 
Haven.  It  was  four  o'clock  when  they  left  the  house. 
The  horses  were  put  to  their  best  speed  throughout 
the  journey.  Alcazardo  met  her  and  they  went  im- 
mediately aboard  the  brig  Heron.  Within  ten  minutes 
of  that  the  brig  swung  from  the  wharf;  and  she  was 
hull  down  by  the  time  Mr.  Fairwood  and  Captain 
Drurie  dashed  through  the  town  on  sweating  horses. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ISOBEL'S  DISCOVERY 

LONG  before  England  was  reached  by  the  brig 
Heron,  Isobel  Dariza  was  almost  frantic  with  remorse 
for  having  left  Virginia,  and  her  old  friends  there,  hi 
so  hasty  and  secret  a  manner.  But  she  tried  to  hide 
her  suffering  from  her  uncle.  He  saw,  at  a  glance, 
what  the  trouble  was,  however,  and  did  his  best  to 
cheer  her.  In  fact,  throughout  the  entire  voyage,  he 
acted  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  consideration 
toward  the  grieving  girl.  His  season  of  play-acting 
was  not  yet  over;  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  spoil  a 
good  performance  by  haste  or  carelessness  in  the  last 
act. 

On  reaching  the  port  of  London,  Alcazardo  took 
his  ward  to  the  best  inn  in  the  town,  and  lavished 
upon  her  all  manner  of  gifts.  He  told  her  that  this 
visit  to  London  was  purely  for  business  purposes; 
that  he  wished  to  follow  a  certain  clue  that  might 
lead  to  some  information  concerning  Richard  —  this 
had  no  foundation  whatever  —  and  that  he  intended 

160 


Isobel's  Discovery  151 

looking  into  the  state  of  the  banking-house  in  which 
her  money  and  her  brother's  had  reposed  for  so  many 
years.  Whether  the  stay  in  London  should  be  brief 
or  long  depended  on  the  clue. 

She  was  touchingly  grateful  for  all  the  trouble  he 
was  taking  for  her.  He  spent  a  week  in  looking  into 
the  state  of  the  banking-house,  and  his  personal 
baggage  was  considerably  increased  in  weight  by  the 
end  of  the  week.  As  for  the  clue  —  why,  it  was  really 
remarkable.  It  pointed  to  Spain,  of  all  places.  The 
last  that  had  been  seen  of  the  person  who  might  be 
the  person  they  were  looking  for  was  aboard  a  ship 
called  the  Five  Brothers,  bound  for  some  Spanish 
port.  He  was  a  born  romancer,  was  Josef  Alcazardo. 

Isobel  agreed  with  her  uncle  that  the  best  thing  to 
do  was  to  go  to  Spain  and  follow  the  clue;  and  by 
autumn,  whether  successful  or  not,  to  return  to  Eng- 
land and  wait  in  Bristol  for  Francis  Drurie.  During 
their  brief  stay  in  London,  Isobel  wrote  several  letters 
to  Virginia  —  to  her  uncle,  and  to  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Drurie. 

These  letters  were  sent  across  the  ocean  in  sure 
hands  and  by  the  first  opportunity,  for  Alcazardo 
was  well  aware  that  they  contained  nothing  but  good 
of  himself.  It  tickled  his  queer  sense  cf  humour  to 
picture  the  bewilderment  of  Fairwood  and  the  Druries 


152  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

upon  reading  that  he  was  still  the  kindly,  affectionate 
gentleman  that  he  had  pretended  to  be. 

Alcazardo  spoke,  at  first,  of  going  to  Madrid;  but 
he  changed  his  plans  suddenly,  for  some  reason  un- 
known to  Isobel.  They  travelled  to  Cadiz,  by  easy 
stages  and  in  the  most  comfortable  manner  possible. 
They  went  directly  to  a  large  house  outside  the  city. 
It  was  an  old  house,  scantily  furnished  and  pervaded 
with  an  atmosphere  of  emptiness  and  decay,  as  if  it 
had  been  uninhabited  and  neglected  for  many  years. 

The  only  servant  in  the  house,  at  the  time  of  their 
arrival,  was  one  old  man.  Alcazardo  told  the  old 
fellow  to  engage  immediately  a  cook  and  a  young 
woman  to  wait  upon  his  ward.  The  other  shut  one 
eye  and  screwed  up  his  mouth  at  this,  as  if  to  say  that 
it  was  not  as  easy  as  it  sounded.  The  master  drew  him 
to  one  side  by  the  front  of  his  faded  coat. 

"  Here  is  a  little  gift  for  you,  my  faithful  Juan," 
he  said,  pressing  a  gold  com  into  the  old  fellow's 
palm.  "  The  wages  shall  be  large  for  the  cook  and 
the  maid  —  yes,  and  the  service  easy,"  he  continued. 
"  See,  here  is  something  for  each  of  them  in  advance." 
He  put  another  coin  into  the  ready  palm.  "  Come 
now,  Juan,  do  your  best." 

Juan  nodded.  "  I  know  the  very  people  for  you, 
senor"  he  said.  "  My  daughter  for  the  cooking,  and 


Isobel's  Discovery  153 

her  daughter  to  wait  upon  the  beautiful  young  lady 
who  is  your  niece." 

So  it  happened  that,  at  dusk  of  the  day  of  their 
arrival  at  the  desolate  house,  a  well-cooked  meal  was 
served  to  them;  and,  later,  when  Isobel  retired,  she 
was  attended  by  a  dark  maid  named  Maria,  who  not 
only  unpacked  her  boxes  for  her  and  helped  her 
prepare  for  sleep,  but  retired  to  a  couch  in  the  same 
room.  The  lonely  girl  was  thankful,  for  the  great 
bedchamber  was  not  a  cheerful  place  for  a  young  lady 
to  sleep  in  alone. 

During  the  next  week  neither  Josef  Alcazardo  nor 
his  ward  went  any  farther  from  the  house  than  the 
stone  wall  that  surrounded  the  tangled  gardens  and 
neglected  orchard.  Isobel  was  homesick,  and  the 
desolate  house  and  grounds  depressed  her  like  a  night- 
mare. She  asked  her  uncle  to  take  her  to  the  city  of 
Cadiz,  if  only  for  half  a  day,  that  she  might  rouse  her 
spirits  with  sightseeing. 

"  Not  now.  But  next  week,  perhaps,  if  I  am  not 
too  busy,"  he  replied.  He  did  not  speak  as  if  he  were 
sorry  not  to  be  able  to  oblige  her. 

She  looked  at  him  in  frightened  bewilderment.  He 
met  the  glance  coolly;  then  turned  and  left  the  room. 
But  in  a  moment  he  was  back  again,  for  he  had  almost 
shown  the  cloven-hoof  too  soon. 


154  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  You  must  try  to  forgive  me,  my  dear  little  daugh- 
ter," he  said  contritely.  "  I  am  worried  now.  I  have 
troubles.  But  in  a  few  days  things  will  be  well  with 
me  again." 

And  so  the  sudden,  vague  terror  that  had  stirred 
in  her  heart  sank  to  rest  —  for  a  little  while. 

Only  two  visitors  ever  came  to  the  house  during 
Isobel's  stay  in  it.  The  first  was  a  short,  black-bearded 
man  of  seafaring  look,  who  came  to  see  Alcazardo. 
He  had  been  searching  ,for  him  for  several  months,  he 
said.  He  seemed  in  a  very  bad  humour  at  the  beginning 
of  his  first  visit.  He  called  twice  —  after  dusk,  and 
with  only  a  day's  interval. 

Though  Isobel  did  not  see  him  on  either  occasion, 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her.  Such  gentry  have  a  way 
of  seeing  and  not  being  seen. 

Each  call  lasted  several  hours,  during  which  time 
he  and  Alcazardo  were  closeted  together  in  a  small 
room  on  the  ground  floor. 

The  old  servant  —  a  sly  old  dog  who  wanted  to 
increase  his  knowledge  of  his  mysterious  master's 
affairs  —  listened  each  night  with  his  ear  to  the  door. 
But  he  failed  to  hear  anything  more  enlightening  than 
a  busy,  senseless  mumble  of  conversation,  and  once 
the  jingle  of  shattered  glass.  The  other  visitor  was  a 
person  of  no  importance  in  himself;  but  was  to  play 


Isobel's  Discovery  155 

an  important,  though  humble,  part  in  Isobel's  affairs, 
as  you  shall  see. 

When  Maria  brought  up  Isobel's  breakfast  on  the 
morning  after  the  black-bearded  man's  last  visit,  she 
brought  also  a  note  for  her  from  her  guardian.  It 
was  brief,  but  affectionate.  This  was  the  way  of  it: 

"  I   have  been   called  away,  in  haste,  on  urgent 
business.    I  hope  to  be  back  by  nightfall;  but  if  not, 
you  shall  hear  from  me.    Be  of  good  cheer. 
"  Your  affectionate 

"UNCLE  AND  GUARDIAN." 

This  note  filled  the  girl  with  wonder  and  appre- 
hension. What  was  this  urgent  business  of  Alcazardo's, 
of  which  he  had  not  told  a  word  to  her  ?  And  where 
had  he  gone  to  for  its  transaction?  And  why  were 
his  movements  so  sudden  and  secret?  She  sent  for 
old  Juan,  and  questioned  him  as  to  the  time  and  manner 
of  his  master's  departure. 

The  old  fellow  told  all  he  knew  gladly  enough;  but 
he  knew  very  little.  The  senor  had  said  nothing  to 
him  about  going  away;  but  he  had  been  awakened,  a 
little  after  midnight,  by  the  sound  of  wheels  on  the 
cobbles  of  the  yard.  On  looking  from  his  window 
he  had  seen  a  chaise  in  the  yard,  with  two  horses  in 


156  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

the  harness.  A  lantern  wavered  about,  held  by  a 
peasant  who  stood  at  the  horses'  heads. 

Then  he  had  seen  his  master  come  from  a  small 
door  that  opened  from  the  basement  upon  the  yard. 
He  was  tugging  a  heavy  bag  in  each  hand.  Having 
placed  these  inside  the  chaise,  he  went  back  to  the 
house,  reappearing  in  a  minute  with  two  more  bags. 
With  these  he  mounted  into  the  chaise.  Then  the 
peasant  got  up  in  front,  and  they  drove  away. 

Isobel's  curiosity  was  excited.  What  was  the  reason 
of  this  midnight  departure,  made  without  the  knowledge 
of  herself  or  Juan  ?  One  would  think  that  he  would 
have  awakened  the  old  man,  if  only  to  carry  the  bags 
for  him.  And  what  could  have  been  the  contents  of 
those  heavy  bags  ?  She  went  to  the  door  of  her  uncle's 
room.  It  was  locked.  She  searched  the  house  for 
keys,  but  could  find  nothing  to  serve  her  purpose. 

A  vague  suspicion  of  Alcazardo  was  growing  in  her 
mind.  It  was  more  a  suspicion  of  misfortune  than  of 
evil  intention  —  a  suspicion  that  worldly  affairs  were 
not  in  such  prosperous  condition  as  he  had  pretended. 
If  this  should  prove  to  be  the  case,  she  was  willing  that 
he  should  use  some  of  her  money  for  his  needs. 

Sending  for  Juan  again,  she  questioned  him  craftily, 
giving  him  the  idea  that  she  had  expected  this  sudden 
departure  of  her  uncle's,  and  was  yet  somewhat  worried 


Isobel's  Discovery  157 

about  it.  She  hinted  that  it  had  something  to  do  with 
a  commercial  venture  —  the  freighting  of  a  ship  in 
which  she  and  the  senor  were  interested  —  undertaken 
against  her  saner  judgment. 

The  old  man  was  as  simple  as  he  considered  himself 
deep.  He  was  flattered  by  the  young  lady's  con- 
fidences. 

"  That  would  be  it,"  he  said.  "  The  seafaring  man 
would  certainly  be  the  captain  of  the  ship." 

And  so  he  went  on,  needing  no  questioning,  and  told 
what  he  knew  of  the  man  with  the  black  beard.  From 
that  he  wandered  to  other  things,  and  let  fall  the  fact 
that  it  was  now  almost  four  years  since  the  senor's 
last  visit.  Yes,  he  owned  the  house.  Yes,  he  believed 
he  spent  much  of  his  time  in  Madrid;  but  he  was  not 
sure  of  that.  No,  the  senor  did  not  seem  to  have  any 
friends  in  Cadiz.  Oh,  he  was  an  uncertain  gentleman, 
and  a  great  spender  of  money.  Of  that  Juan  was  sure, 
though  he  swore  that  he  never  saw  much  of  it  himself. 

Isobel  was  thinking  of  retiring,  and  Maria  was 
sewing  busily  by  the  light  of  their  single  candle,  when 
Juan  came  rapping  at  the  door. 

He  was  greatly  excited  and  had  a  letter  in  his  hand 
for  the  young  lady.  He  said  that  it  had  been  brought 
by  a  rustic  youth  who  even  now  waited  in  the  yard 
with  a  large,  covered  carriage  and  two  horses. 


158  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Isobel  read  the  letter  eagerly,  and  gave  a  little  cry 
of  delight.  It  was  from  Alcazardo. 

He  stated  concisely  that  he  had  to  sail  for  England 
in  the  morning;  and  that,  unless  she  wanted  to  stay 
in  Spain,  she  was  to  pack  her  most  valued  possessions 
immediately  and  accompany  the  bearer  of  the  note. 

Within  half  an  hour  of  receiving  the  letter,  Isobel 
and  her  maid  were  rolling  along  unknown  roads  in 
the  great  carriage.  So  they  travelled  all  night;  and 
at  the  lift  of  dawn  the  carriage  came  to  a  standstill 
before  a  dilapidated  hut  on  the  seacoast. 

Here  were  Alcazardo  and  the  man  with  the  black 
beard,  and  four  rough-cut  mariners,  impatiently 
awaiting  their  arrival.  Alcazardo  seemed  very  nervous, 
and  was  undoubtedly  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  get  away 
from  the  coast  of  Spain.  He  all  but  dragged  his  ward 
and  her  maid  from  the  carriage,  and  then  snatched 
out  their  baggage  and  ordered  the  sailors  to  rush  it 
down  to  the  boat.  He  paid  the  driver  of  the  carriage, 
and  sent  him  about  his  business.  He  had  not  a  decent 
word  for  any  one,  but  continually  urged  haste,  as  if  the 
devil  himself  were  at  his  heels. 

The  boat  down  at  the  edge  of  the  tide  was  already 
partially  loaded.  The  work  was  completed  in  a  very 
few  minutes  after  the  arrival  of  the  carriage,  and  the 
boat  crawled  heavily  seaward.  Isobel  and  Maria  sat 


Isobel's  Discovery  159 

in  the  stem  beside  the  man  with  the  black  beard,  who 
held  the  tiller.  The  sailors  bent  to  the  oars,  and  Alca- 
zardo  reclined  hi  the  bow.  Several  miles  to  seaward 
the  level  sunlight  flamed  white  on  the  sails  of  two  vessels 
that  stood  off  and  on.  Isobel  noticed  it  and  thought  it 
beautiful  —  and  then  she  leaned  sideways  a  little  and 
closed  her  eyes.  She  had  not  caught  a  minute's  sleep 
during  the  night,  and  now  her  eyelids  ached.  The 
motion  of  the  boat  over  the  little  waves  was  very 
soothing. 

One  of  the  vessels  —  the  smaller  of  the  two  — 
veered  in  toward  the  boat.  It  was  a  fine  little  topsail- 
schooner,  heavily  sparred  and  with  hull  and  canvas  as 
white  as  shell.  It  lay-to  and  the  boat  ran  alongside. 

Alcazardo  sprang  to  the  deck.  Isobel  awoke,  and 
she  and  Maria  were  passed  skilfully  up.  The  luggage 
followed  them  hi  short  order.  Then  the  boat  pushed 
away  from  the  side  of  the  schooner  and  shaped  her 
course  for  the  other  vessel,  which  lay  within  a  half 
mile;  and  the  schooner  fell  away  before  the  wind. 

It  was  then  that  Isobel  discovered  the  loss  of  the 
little  gold  cross  from  her  neck  —  the  cross  which  her 
lover  had  given  her.  It  must  have  broken  from  her 
neck  in  the  boat  while  she  slept.  The  chain  was  very 
thin  —  the  gentleman  with  the  beard  had  noticed  that. 

The  little  schooner  danced  along,  with  just  what 


160  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

wind  she  needed  to  keep  the  wrinkles  out  of  her  sails. 
So  she  danced  all  that  golden  day  and  all  the  silver 
night.  Next  morning  Tsobel  asked  her  uncle  how  long 
it  would  be  before  they  reached  England.  He  looked 
at  her  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  a  horrid  gleam  in  his 
eyes. 

"  My  dear,  foolish  girl,  we  are  not  going  to  England," 
he  said. 

"Not  going  to  England!"  she  repeated,  with 
horror  in  her  voice. 

"  We  are  bound  for  a  snug  little  island  in  the  West 
Indies,"  he  replied  with  a  leer.  "  An  island  where 
my  whim  is  the  only  law,  even  as  it  is  aboard  this 
ship." 

The  girl  uttered  an  inarticulate  cry  and  sank  to  the 
deck. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

FRANCIS   DRURIE   RETURNS   TO   BRISTOL 

THE  Brave  Adventure  outsailed  the  other  ships  of 
the  fleet,  and  got  .back  to  Bristol  in  the  first  week  of 
November.  A  crowd  of  townspeople  of  all  classes  and 
callings  gathered  on  the  water-front  to  see  the  little 
vessel  furl  and  make  fast  after  her  daring  voyage. 

Here  were  shareholders  of  the  Royal  Company, 
anxious  to  see  and  hear  how  the  expedition  had  fared; 
noblemen  attracted  by  the  romance  of  the  voyage,  and 
merchants  attracted  by  other  considerations;  and  all 
manner  of  idle  folk,  curious  and  looking  for  a  little 
excitement. 

Cheering  thundered  out  from  the  crowd,  and  rang 
back  heartily  from  the  Brave  Adventure.  The  gray 
sails  dwindled  and  vanished,  one  by  one.  At  last, 
drawing  in  with  no  more  than  steerageway,  the  stout 
little  craft  swung  to  starboard  and  settled  in  against 
her  wharf.  The  cheering  rose  higher,  and  willing 
hands  made  her  fast. 

The  commander  of  the  Brave  Adventure  was  the 
161 


162  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

first  to  step  ashore,  followed  close  by  the  master 
and  the  gentlemen  of  the  ship.  The  important 
people  clustered  around  them  with  expressions  of 
welcome  and  good  will  and  eager  questions.  "  Where 
are  the  other  ships?"  "How  fared  the  crew?" 
"What  success?" 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Drurie,  "  I  thank  you  all,  in 
the  name  of  the  ship's  company,  for  your  consideration. 
As  far  as  we  know,  the  other  vessels  are  safe;  but 
they  do  not  sail  fast  enough  to  keep  in  sight  of  the 
Brave  Ad-venture.  We  summered  well,  and  made  safe 
voyages  both  ways.  We  founded  a  strong  fort,  in  the 
name  of  God  and  the  king.  We  have  a  fine  cargo  of 
peltries  under  hatches." 

Every  one  cheered  violently  at  that  —  including 
those  who  had  not  heard  a  word  of  it. 

Master  Smithers.  grabbed  Drurie  by  the  elbow. 
"  Come,  captain,"  he  cried  heartily,  "  dinner  awaits 
you  in  your  own  inn.  I  ordered  it  when  you  were 
first  sighted." 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Cremona?"  asked 
Drurie,  after  the  greetings  were  over. 

"  Not  a  feather  of  him,"  replied  the  merchant. 
"  But  come  along.  The  dinner  waits.  Make  way  for 
the  commander  of  the  Brave  Adventure"  he  cried  to 
the  people  in  his  path.  "  Make  way  for  the  gallant 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol    103 

adventurer  who  has  not  tasted  English  roast  for  six 
months." 

"  Give  him  his  fill  o'  the  best!"  cried  the  crowd. 
"  He  is  a  fine  lad.  He  is  a  great  sailor.  Way  for 
Captain  Drurie  there!  Way  for  the  commander  o'  the 
Brave  Adventure! " 

So  they  made  the  slow  but  glorious  journey  up  the 
wharf,  with  Nicholas  at  their  heels,  carrying  a  bag  and 
looking  twice  as  broad  as  when  he  sailed  away  with 
his  Virginian  master. 

Smithers  had  a  packet  of  letters  for  Francis;  but 
he  refused  to  give  them  to  him  until  the  dinner  was 
over  and  several  rounds  of  congratulations  had  been 
drunk.  Then  he  left  the  commander  to  his  mail  and 
returned  to  the  water-front  to  watch  the  unloading  of 
the  valuable  cargo  of  the  Brave  Adventure. 

First  of  all,  Francis  opened  the  letter  addressed  in 
Isobel's  writing.  It  was  in  three  parts;  the  first 
dated  on  the  very  day  after  his  departure  from  Vir- 
ginia, and  added  to  time  and  again;  the  second, 
begun  soon  after  the  arrival  at  Hopeland  of  Josef 
Alcazardo,  and  full  of  appreciation  of  that  gentleman's 
good  qualities;  and  the  third,  written  after  Mr.  Dariza's 
death. 

It  was  not  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  old  friend 
that  shocked  him  most  keenly  in  the  last  portion  of  the 


164  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

letter,  but  the  girl's  anger  against  Mr.  Fairwood  and 
Captain  Drurie  for  their  treatment  of  her  Spanish 
uncle.  What  could  she  say  of  the  stranger's  virtues  to 
outweigh  the  fact  that  he  had  already  caused  trouble 
between  herself  and  her  loyal,  old-time  friends  ? 

His  heart  was  chilled  with  fear  at  the  thought  that 
a  man  whom  the  captain  and  Fairwood  did  not  treat 
cordially  had  won  the  trust  of  the  girl  he  loved.  He 
felt  sure  that  those  two  honest  gentlemen  were  not 
likely  to  make  any  mistake  in  their  reading  of  the 
stranger.  They  knew  mankind  and  the  world.  They 
would  never  treat  an  honest  man  with  anything  but 
consideration  and  fairness. 

With  hands  that  trembled,  Francis  broke  the  seal 
of  his  father's  letter.  It  was  short  and  of  fairly  recent 
date  —  in  fact,  it  had  been  written  immediately  after 
the  arrival  in  Virginia  of  Isobel's  letters  from  London. 

The  captain  dealt  briefly  with  the  arrival  of  Alcazardo 
in  Virginia,  Dariza's  death,  and  the  remarkable  will. 
Without  comment,  he  mentioned  the  fact  that  Fairwood 
had  done  his  best  to  incite  Alcazardo  to  a  duel,  and  that 
the  fellow  had  accepted  the  gravest  insults  without 
responding.  He  wrote  that  Isobel,  poor  girl,  had  not 
understood  Fairwood's  good  reason  for  his  treatment  of 
the  other. 

He  skipped  over  the  flight  of  Isobel  and  her  guardian 


Francis   Drurie   Returns  to  Bristol   165 

with  very  few  words;  but  he  made  the  most  of  the 
letters  which  Isobel  had  sent  back  to  Virginia  from 
London. 

"  Who  can  say  if  the  girl  is  right  or  we  are  right, 
after  all?  "  he  concluded.  "  Only  Heaven  knows  what 
is  in  that  black-eyed  fellow's  heart.  He  has  begun 
well,  as  far  as  Isobel  is  concerned,  at  any  rate;  so  let 
us  hope  that  Henry  Fairwood  and  I  have  been  nothing 
but  a  pair  of  old  fools  in  this  matter." 

Then,  feeling  a  little  easier  in  his  mind,  Francis  read 
the  communication  from  Mr.  Fairwood.  It  was  not 
comforting.  The  hot-headed  old  Virginian  put  down 
his  opinion  of  Alcazardo  in  black  and  white.  He  drew 
his  picture  to  a  hair.  He  called  him,  to  Francis,  the 
same  names  that  he  had  given  him  to  his  own  face. 

For  an  hour  the  young  man  sat  hi  his  chair  by  the 
table,  with  his  face  between  his  hands,  trying  to  picture 
the  last  few  months  of  Isobel's  life.  He  derived  no 
hope  now  from  the  fact  that  she  had  written  home  from 
London;  for  why  had  she  not  written  to  Bristol  since 
then  ?  Or,  for  that  matter,  if  there  had  been  any  truth 
in  Alcazardo's  promises,  why  were  they  not  both  in 
Bristol  at  this  moment?  At  last  he  rang  for  Nicholas 
and  told  him  to  search  the  town  for  news  of  a  Senor 
Josef  Alcazardo  and  his  ward. 

Francis  left  his  chair  by  the  table  and  paced  feverishly 


166  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

up  and  down  the  room,  his  hands  gripped  together 
behind  him  and  his  chin  on  his  breast.  The  most 
unhappy  imaginings  filled  his  mind.  Strive  as  he 
would,  he  could  not  accept  IsobePs  value  of  this  man 
Alcazardo. 

As  far  as  London,  evidently,  the  man  had  played 
his  game;  but  after  that,  when  there  was  no  more 
need  of  playing,  what  had  he  done?  Of  course,  he 
had  possessed  himself  of  the  money.  Curse  the 
money!  He  was  welcome  to  it.  But  what  had  he  done 
with  the  girl  —  when  no  more  was  to  be  gained  by 
pretending  to  be  her  guardian?  Had  he  deserted 
her  in  London? 

"  I  start  for  London  to-morrow,"  he  cried  harshly 
in  answer  to  the  thought. 

Had  Francis  known  Alcazardo,  that  fear  of  physical 
desertion  would  not  have  troubled  him.  Alcazardo's 
devilment  was  of  a  more  refined  variety.  He  liked 
people  to  suffer  under  his  eyes.  He  liked  to  contem- 
plate the  results  of  his  work.  He  liked  to  play  with  his 
victims  —  to  win  their  trust,  then  their  hate  and  fear 
—  to  cast  them  to  the  depths,  give  them  a  glimpse  of 
hope  and  cast  them  down  again.  But  how  was  poor 
young  Drurie  to  know  that  his  sweetheart's  uncle  was 
such  an  original  kind  of  devil? 

He  was  still  pacing  back  and  forth,  and  dusk  was 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  167 

filling  the  room,  when  a  knock  came  to  the  door. 
"  Come  in,"  he  said,  pausing  by  the  window. 

The  door  opened,  and  two  men  entered  and  stood 
without  a  word.  Both  wore  long  cloaks  which  reached 
almost  to  the  floor;  and  hi  the  dusk  Francis  could  dis- 
cern nothing  of  their  faces.  Their  hats  were  still  on 
their  heads.  Francis  was  sorry  that  he  had  not  a 
lighted  candle  in  the  room. 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  he  inquired  steadily. 

And  still  the  cloaked  men  maintained  their  silence 
and  their  hats.  Francis,  worried  almost  to  despera- 
tion by  the  news  he  had  read  in  his  letters,  was  in 
no  mood  to  be  tampered  with  by  any  two  men  in  the 
world. 

He  stepped  forward  briskly,  and  with  a  swift  stroke 
of  the  hand  sent  the  hat  of  the  taller  of  the  two  spinning 
to  the  floor. 

"Off  she  go  — my  fine  hat!"  cried  the  voice  of 
Cremona  delightedly. 

It  was  "  Cap'n  Cremona,"  beyond  a  doubt,  though 
he  had  a  pointed  beard  on  his  chin  and  his  earrings 
were  gone. 

Francis  turned  to  the  other  quick  as  the  thought 
that  had  leaped  into  his  brain,  and  grabbed  him  by  the 
muffling  cloak.  It  was  Dick  Dariza! 

The  friends  embraced  and  shook  hands,  and  em- 


168  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

braced  again.  Then  Drurie  turned  again  to  Cremona 
and  grasped  his  hands.  Then  he  pulled  the  bell  and 
ordered  candles  and  two  bottles  of  the  best  wine  in  the 
cellar.  He  tried  to  throw  off  his  anxiety  for  the  time. 
He  would  not  chill  the  satisfaction  of  the  reunion  by 
any  mention  just  yet  of  his  news  or  his  fears.  Neither 
could  be  done  before  morning,  anyway. 

During  supper,  and  for  an  hour  afterward,  the 
conversation  kept  to  the  recent  adventures  of  the 
three.  Dick  asked  tenderly  after  his  father  and  sister 
at  the  beginning  of  the  meal;  but  Francis  put  off  the 
hour  which  he  dreaded  by  telling  him  that  Isobel  had 
promised  to  be  his  wife. 

Dick  rejoiced,  and  took  it  for  granted  that  all  was 
well  with  his  family.  He  was  something  of  a  chatterer 
—  and  so  was  Cremona.  Between  them  they  informed 
Francis  fully  of  all  their  adventures  since  the  un- 
fortunate duel.  Many  of  these  adventures  had  been 
matters  of  life  or  death,  but  they  told  them  all  light- 
heartedly. 

They  had  suffered  hunger  and  cold  and  humiliation; 
but  there  was  no  bitterness  in  their  hearts.  They  had 
hidden  from  their  enemies  in  mean  places;  but  they 
had  brought  none  of  the  meanness  back  to  the  open 
air  with  them.  Their  friendship  was  a  fine  thing.  Dick 
treated  Cremona,  though  he  always  called  him  Pedro 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  169 

in  private,  with  the  same  manner  of  comradeship  as 
he  treated  Drurie;  but  in  the  eyes  of  Cremona,  when- 
ever they  were  turned  on  Dick,  shone  that  light  of 
homage  that  often  glorifies  the  eyes  of  a  good  dog. 
For  all  that,  his  manner  was  now  that  of  the  loyal  and 
somewhat  boisterous  friend;  one  could  see  by  his  eyes 
that  he  was  still  the  loyal  servant. 

"  We  have  been  in  the  saddle  all  day,"  said 
Dick.  "  So  now  for  bed  —  and  in  the  morning  — 
what?" 

"  There  is  an  adventure  awaiting  both  of  you.  I 
shall  tell  you  the  plans  of  it  hi  the  morning,"  replied 
Francis.  He  called  the  landlord  and  arranged  about 
rooms  for  the  newcomers.  He  handed  his  letters  from 
Virginia  to  Dick.  "  I  want  you  to  take  these  to  your 
room  with  you  and  read  them  before  you  go  to  sleep," 
he  said.  "  They  have  but  just  come  to  my  hand,"  he 
added. 

Dick  and  Cremona  retired,  the  table  was  cleared,  and 
Francis  again  took  up  his  pacing  of  the  room.  Back 
and  forth  he  marched,  as  if  on  the  narrow  quarter-deck 
of  the  Brave  Adventure. 

It  was  not  long  before  Nicholas  rapped  on  the  door 
and  entered.  "  I  have  been  to  every  inn  of  the  city," 
he  said,  "  and  no  sign  has  been  seen  of  a  gentleman 
by  the  name  of  Alcazardo." 


170  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Very  good,  Nicholas.  We  start  to-morrow  morn- 
ing for  London,"  replied  Francis. 

"  Yes,  sir.    Saddles  or  carriage?  "  asked  the  servant. 

"  Saddles,"  replied  the  commander.  "  Are  there 
any  horses  hi  your  father's  stable  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Only  the  two  belonging  to  Captain  Cremona  and 
his  friend,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Then  engage  two  more,"  said  Francis.  "  We  shall 
start  at  sunrise." 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Richard  Dariza  came 
quietly  into  his  friend's  room.  Francis  had  been 
sitting  motionless  hi  his  chair  for  over  an  hour,  waiting. 
He  sprang  up  and  went  forward  to  meet  Dariza.  The 
other's  eyelids  were  red. 

"  It  was  quick  —  and  easy,"  said  Francis.  "  And 
now  he  is  happy." 

Dick  nodded.  "  Yes  —  the  poor  old  man,"  he 
murmured. 

"  As  for  Isobel  —  why,  we  must  look  for  her,"  said 
Francis.  "  They  have  not  been  in  Bristol,  I  think. 
So  we  shall  go  to  London  —  to  the  inn  at  which 
they  stayed  and  to  the  banking-house  at  which  the 
money  was.  We  should  get  some  news  of  them  there." 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Dick  dully.  "  Why 
didn't  Uncle  Henry  put  a  bullet  through  the  rogue's 
head?" 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  171 

"I  would  to  Heaven  he  had!"  cried  Francis  fer- 
vently. 

In  London  they  learned  that  the  Senor  Josef  Al- 
cazardo,  uncle  and  guardian  to  Mistress  Isobel  Dariza, 
of  Virginia,  had  removed  funds  to  a  very  considerable 
amount  from  the  banking-house  of  Smith  &  Wedder. 
The  bankers  had  seen  nothing  of  him  after  that. 

At  the  inn  from  which  Isobel  had  written  her  letters 
they  learned  that  the  Spanish  gentleman  and  the 
beautiful  young  lady  had  left  London  in  a  ship.  The 
gentleman  had  been  very  free  with  his  money.  The 
young  lady  was  dressed  like  a  princess.  The  landlord 
did  not  remember  the  name  of  the  vessel  on  which 
they  had  sailed,  but  one  of  the  servants  remembered 
having  heard  Alcazardo  mention  Spain  to  the  lady. 

Nicholas  was  sent  back  to  Bristol  to  look  after  his 
master's  belongings  and  interests  there.  The  other 
three,  after  a  day's  search,  found  a  small  vessel  ready 
to  sail  southward.  For  a  matter  of  four  guineas  from 
each  of  the  gentlemen  the  master  was  willing  to  land 
them  on  the  Spanish  coast.  They  paid  him  half  the 
money  on  the  word,  promised  the  balance  when  they 
should  be  safely  landed,  and  went  aboard. 

The  shipmaster  protested.  He  did  not  intend  to 
sail  until  a  late  hour  of  the  next  day.  Why  should  the 
gentlemen  not  return  to  their  inn  for  the  night?  But 


172  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

the  gentlemen  were  too  old  to  be  caught  by  any  such 
trick  as  that.  "  I  think  this  is  your  tide,"  said  Drurie; 
and,  sure  enough,  the  little  vessel  was  out  in  the  stream 
within  the  hour. 

The  Merry  Andrew  was  a  lugger-rigged  craft  of 
about  five  tons  burden.  She  had  no  deck  amidships, 
but  a  tiny  cabin  aft  and  a  still  smaller  one  forward. 
Her  crew  consisted  of  two  men  besides  Purl,  the 
master.  They  were  hard-looking  customers,  all 
three.  Purl,  when  asked,  said  that  the  cargo  was  of 
spikes  and  other  ironware;  but,  upon  investigation  on 
the  part  of  Cremona,  it  was  found  to  be  of  gun- 
powder. 

Then  the  three  gentlemen  realized  that  they  should 
have  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  during  the  voyage, 
for  they  suspected  that  the  Merry  Andrew  had  a 
tryst  to  keep  somewhere  off  the  coast  of  France 
or  Spain  with  some  larger  craft  in  need  of  ammu- 
nition. 

Purl  said  that  they  were  to  occupy  the  after-cabin, 
as  it  was  the  larger  of  the  two;  but  the  passengers 
had  no  intention  of  giving  the  doubtful  mariners  any 
such  advantage  of  position.  With  two  men  in  front 
and  another  above  and  behind  them  at  the  tiller,  they 
would  be  all  but  helpless  in  case  of  treachery.  So 
Cremona,  who  took  the  lead  in  this  matter  to  save  the 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  173 

others  the  trouble,  said  that  he  and  his  friends  con- 
sidered the  forward  accommodations  the  more  com- 
fortable. 

"  But  we  have  our  beds  there  already,"  said 
Purl. 

"  That  is  easily  changed,"  replied  Cremona  with 
a  smile,  and  pulled  the  straw  beds  and  dirty  blankets 
from  the  little  den  in  the  bows  and  tossed  them 
aft. 

By  this  time  the  Merry  Andrew  was  out  of  the  river. 
Purl  swore  savagely,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if 
he  were  about  to  spring  upon  Cremona.  The  other's 
alert  and  undismayed  attitude,  however,  caused  him  to 
change  his  mind.  "  Have  it  your  own  way  —  an'  to 
blazes  with  ye,"  he  said. 

As  night  approached,  the  kegs  of  powder,  which 
stood  close-racked  on  the  ballast,  were  covered  with 
tarpaulins.  The  evening  was  fine  and  clear,  and  not 
immoderately  cold.  The  three  passengers  sat  along 
the  edge  of  the  little  forecastle  deck,  facing  aft.  Cre- 
mona rolled  up  a  few  leaves  of  tobacco  and  drew  his 
flint  and  steel  from  his  pocket.  This  did  not  escape 
the  quick  eye  of  Purl,  who  was  at  the  tiller. 

"  Hold,  there!  "  he  shouted.  "  I'll  have  no  sparks 
flyin'  aboard  this  craft." 

Cremona  grinned  and  returned  both  tobacco  and  box 


174  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

to  his  pocket.    "  I  think  you  scared  the  cargo  blow-up," 
he  said. 

Purl  did  not  reply.     A  dangerous  silence  reigned 
fore  and  aft. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THREE  GENTLEMEN   FOLLOW   AN  ELUSIVE   QUEST 

THE  three  passengers  were  thankful  that  the  crew 
of  the  lugger  did  not  outnumber  them.  As  it  was, 
they  felt  but  little  anxiety.  They  had  their  baggage 
with  them  in  the  bows;  and  as  soon  as  dark  was  fallen 
they  lay  down  to  rest,  with  their  six  feet  pointing  aft 
and  their  heads  on  their  saddle-bags.  A  nudge  of  the 
elbow,  a  whisper  or  two,  and  the  night's  campaign 
was  planned.  It  was  Dick's  first  watch,  Drurie's 
second,  and  Cremona's  third. 

Dick's  two  hours  passed  without  incident.  Then  he 
pinched  Francis,  told  him  that  Purl  and  his  men  were 
quiet,  and  instantly  closed  his  eyes.  Francis  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow,  wriggled  aft  a  little  so  as  to  have 
his  feet  well  out  of  the  open  hatch  and  the  waist  of  the 
vessel  well  under  his  eye,  and  composed  himself  to 
watch. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  the  sky  was  generously 
powdered  with  stars.  A  four-knot  breeze  was  holding 
steady  over  the  taffrail.  Save  for  the  continual  soft 

175 


176  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

washing  and  slopping  of  the  water  along  the  lugger's 
sides  and  under  her  forefoot,  and  the  easy  stir  of  spar 
and  canvas,  there  was  not  a  sound.  Under  the  boom 
of  the  foresail  the  watcher  could  see  the  waist  and  rails 
of  the  little  craft  as  far  aft  as  the  mainmast;  but 
beyond  that  he  could  not  see,  for  the  main  boom 
was  lowered  almost  to  the  cargo.  He  wondered  what 
the  three  fellows  aft  of  the  mainsail  were  doing. 

Drurie  had  watched  for  an  hour  or  more,  when  his 
vigilance  was  rewarded  at  last  by  the  sight  of  a  head 
under  the  boom  of  the  mainsail.  Shoulders  followed, 
and  hi  a  moment  a  man  was  crawling  forward  over 
the  tarpaulins,  and  a  second  was  wriggling  under  the 
boom. 

Drurie  sat  upright  and  advanced  two  pistols  through 
the  hatch.  By  this  time  the  second  man  was  on  the 
cargo,  and  Purl  himself  was  clawing  his  way  beneath 
the  boom.  It  was  evident  that  the  tiller  was  lashed. 

"  Belay  that,"  commanded  Drurie  in  a  low  voice. 
The  two  fellows  who  were  clear  of  the  boom  lay  still 
as  death;  but  Master  Purl,  only  half  in  sight,  squirmed 
sideways  a  little  and  raised  his  right  hand. 

One  of  Drurie's  pistols  banged,  and  a  scream  of  rage 
and  pain  rang  high  above  the  peaceful  murmurings 
of  wind  and  sea. 

For  a  moment  all  was  confusion  —  and  then  silence 


An  Elusive  Quest  177 

again.  The  members  of  the  crew  and  the  wounded 
master  lay  in  a  row,  bound  hand  and  foot. 

Drurie's  bullet  had  passed  through  Purl's  shoulder, 
clear  of  the  bone.  Drurie  washed  the  wound  and 
bandaged  it  with  one  of  the  fellow's  own  shirts,  after 
which  he  took  the  tiller  and  advised  his  friends  to 
return  to  their  blankets. 

The  three  passengers  enjoyed  the  light  work  of 
sailing  and  steering  the  Merry  Andrew.  The  wind 
held  throughout  the  next  day,  and  the  lugger  proved 
herself  a  fast  and  handy  craft.  Cremona  cooked  the 
meals  in  a  charcoal  stove  which  he  had  moved  from 
the  after- cabin  to  the  forecastle  deck.  The  messes 
which  he  managed  to  concoct  from  the  rough  and 
scanty  stores  tasted  all  the  better  for  the  risk  of  the 
cooking. 

It  was  a  thrilling  sight  to  see  Cremona  at  work 
with  spoon  and  pan,  Francis  and  Dick  on  guard  along 
the  forward  edge  of  the  tarpaulins,  one  of  the  crew 
clinging  heedlessly  to  the  tiller,  pressed  into  service 
for  the  time,  and  the  other  two  lying  flat  atop  that 
orderly  array  of  powder-kegs,  their  faces  bloodless 
and  their  eyes  fairly  twirling  with  terror. 

Of  course  there  was  little  danger  of  a  spark  reaching 
the  powder,  for  the  gentlemen  took  every  precaution 
against  such  a  sudden  and  useless  termination  of 


178  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

their  careers;  but  Purl  and  his  men  suffered  a  foretaste 
of  the  torments  of  the  inferno. 

The  day  and  the  night  were  without  accident  or 
any  incident  to  disturb  the  voyage;  but  on  the  morning 
of  the  third  day  out  of  London,  while  the  Merry  Andrew 
was  bowling  along  within  three  or  four  miles  of  the 
coast,  things  began  to  brisk  up  a  little. 

The  men  aboard  the  lugger  had  been  aware  for 
some  time  of  a  large  schooner  off  their  port  beam,  about 
five  miles  to  seaward,  headed  north  under  easy  canvas. 
They  paid  little  attention  to  her  until,  all  of  a  sudden, 
they  saw  her  long  hull  narrow  to  a  speck  on  the  glisten- 
ing sea  and  her  white  sails  climb  aloft.  She  had  swung 
at  right  angles  to  her  course.  She  was  heading  land- 
ward now,  with  a  fair  wind,  under  all  sail. 

What  did  it  mean?  The  passengers  of  the  lugger 
could  not  say  at  first,  and  felt  both  puzzled  and  uneasy. 
They  looked  toward  the  land  and  saw  neither  town  nor 
harbour  —  only  desolate  little  coves,  lilac-hued  cliffs, 
and  wooded  hilltops  behind. 

"  What  d'ye  make  of  it  ?  "  asked  Francis. 

Dick  and  Cremona  shook  then-  heads  and  gazed 
seaward  again,  and  again  shoreward.  Cremona  had  a 
gleam  of  inner  light. 

"  I  think  it  may  be  so,"  he  said,  and  stepped  over 
to  where  Purl  lay  bound.  "  That  your  ship  for  this 


An  Elusive  Quest  179 

powder,"  he  said.    "  Well,  what  happen  to  us  ?    We 
let  you  free,  you  say  good  word  for  us  ?  " 

The  strain  of  watching  the  big  fellow  cook  the  meals 
so  near  the  powder-casks  had  evidently  dulled  the 
dishonest  mariner's  mind. 

"  I'll  let  bygones  be  bygones,"  he  said.  "  Cast 
off  these  lines  an'  I'll  treat  ye  right." 

'  Thank  you,"  replied  Cremona  with  a  bow.  "  That 
what  I  think.  See,  your  friend  fly  signal." 

Francis  and  Dick  congratulated  Cremona  on  his 
sharp  wits. 

"  You  are  in  command  of  this  craft,  so  give  us  your 
orders,"  said  Francis. 

Cremona  was  delighted.  He  freed  the  least  offensive 
of  the  lugger's  crew.  "  You  drop  some  kegs  over- 
board," he  said.  Purl  roared  blood  and  thunder  at 
that.  "  Very  good,"  said  Cremona.  He  cast  Purl 
loose.  "  Now,  you  help,"  he  said;  "  and  you,  Cap'n 
Drurie,  stand  ready  with  a  pistol;  and  you,  Master 
St.  George "  —  the  name  they  had  decided  to  call 
Dick  for  the  present  —  "  stand  by  the  sheets."  He 
took  the  tiller  and  let  the  lugger's  head  fall  off  a  point 
or  to. 

The  tall  schooner  was  tearing  down  upon  them, 
swaying  a  little  under  her  high,  broad  pinions.  Two 
red  flags  flew  at  her  tops  —  the  prearranged  signals, 


180  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

no   doubt,   for   the   lugger  to  lay-to  or  sail  to  meet 
her. 

The  first  keg  of  powder  went  over  the  Merry  Andrew's 
rail  with  a  great  splash.  Purl  had  intentionally  tipped 
it  over  the  windward  side,  hi  open  sight  of  the  schooner ; 
and  the  commander  of  the  schooner  had  seen  it,  and 
his  suspicions  of  something  wrong  became  a  certainty. 

Cremona  only  smiled,  and  again  let  the  Merry 
Andrew  fall  away  a  little. 

Overboard    went    the    fat    kegs  —  splash- splash  - 
into  the  dancing  waves.    Another  flag  came  into  sight 
against  the  towering  white  of  the  schooner's  sails.    A 
great  gun  sent  a  dull  boom  of  warning  across  the 
glittering  sea. 

"  Bah!  "  exclaimed  Cremona. 

Purl  swore  lustily  as  he  stooped  to  his  work,  and  shot 
a  desperate  glance  at  Drurie  and  the  pistol.  Drurie 
and  Dick  laughed  a  little  with  the  excitement  of  the 
game.  They  could  see  that  Cremona  was  bound  to 
play  it  for  all  it  was  worth  —  that  he  had  no  intention 
of  showing  his  heels  until  he  had  to. 

The  tall  schooner  grew  in  their  sight  as  if  by  magic, 
rolling  her  slender  hull,  sweeping  her  tops  in  free 
curves  against  the  blue  sky,  heaping  the  silver  foam 
like  a  snowdrift  under  her  racing  foot.  A  white  cloud 
sprang  out  from  under  her  jibs  —  and  thump  came  the 


An  Elusive  Quest  181 

report  of  her  bow-chaser.  A  sharp  little  tongue  of 
torn  water  leaped  up  and  vanished  on  top  of  a  wave 
midway  the  two  vessels. 

By  this  time  the  lugger  was  just  light  enough  to  sail 
at  her  best  speed.  Cremona  held  her  on  a  gradual 
shoreward  slant.  Purl  and  the  fellow  who  had  been 
working  on  the  cargo  were  bound  again.  Drurie 
manned  the  foresheet  and  Dick  the  main.  Cremona 
stood  on  the  tiny  poop  with  the  head  of  the  tiller  under 
his  right  arm,  coolly  puffing  at  a  roll  of  tobacco-leaf. 

The  schooner  closed  in  on  them  with  amazing  speed, 
firing  from  a  gun  in  her  bows  as  fast  as  it  could  be  loaded 
and  trained.  At  last  a  round-shot  struck  the  water 
within  twenty  yards  of  the  lugger.  Cremona  tossed 
his  burning  tobacco  into  the  sea. 

"  Stand  by  to  trim  her!  "  he  cried,  and  pulled  her 
over  fair  before  the  piping  breeze. 

Francis  and  Dick  hauled  on  the  sheets  and  made  fast, 
and  the  Merry  Andrew  raced  shoreward  as  if  her  heart 
were  in  her  heels. 

The  lugger  was  beached  in  a  desolate  little  cove,  on 
shelving  rocks  that  split  her  stout  timbers.  The  three 
travellers  carried  Purl  and  his  two  fellows  ashore  and 
placed  them,  still  bound,  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
water.  Then  they  got  their  saddle-bags  and  started 
up  the  steep  hillside  that  backed  upon  the  cove.  When 


182  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

they  were  half-way  up,  the  schooner's  long-boat  pulled 
into  the  cove,  and  musket-shots  and  shouts  of  rage 
filled  the  air.  Bullets  pattering  on  the  rocks  around 
them  renewed  the  flagging  energies  of  the  three  gentle- 
men. Each  reflected  as  he  scrambled  aloft,  dragging 
his  heavy  bag,  on  the  various  ways  of  dying  offered 
by  the  world ;  and  each  disliked  the  thought  of  ending 
his  career  in  this  desolate  cove.  Death  by  a  musket- 
ball  is  all  very  well;  but  no  gentleman  likes  to  be  shot 
in  the  back  while  scrambling  up  a  hill. 

"  We  shaved  it  just  about  a  minute  too  short," 
gasped  Dick. 

The  long-boat  was  now  in  the  still  waters  of  the 
cove,  and  the  rowers  rested  on  their  oars  so  as  to  give 
the  marksmen  a  better  chance  at  the  fugitives  on  the 
hillside.  Out  rang  another  scattering  volley. 

Dick  stumbled,  and  let  his  saddle-bag  slip  from  his 
grasp.  By  now  they  were  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
brow  of  the  hill.  Dick  got  to  his  feet  and  fell  again. 
A  mocking  shout  came  up  from  the  boat.  Cremona 
sprang  to  Dick's  side  and  picked  him  up  as  if  he  were 
a  child. 

"  Only  in  the  leg,"  said  Dick,  smiling  painfully. 

Cremona  dashed  up  and  over  the  hilltop.  Drurie 
recovered  the  discarded  saddle-bag,  and  followed  at 
his  best  speed. 


An  Elusive  Quest  183 

Before  them  lay  a  bleak  moor  with  timbered  hills 
at  the  back  of  it,  and  the  roofs  of  a  village  in  the  middle 
distance.  They  continued  to  run  for  several  minutes 
over  the  rough  hummocks  of  the  moor,  Francis  keeping 
a  sharp  watch  over  his  shoulder.  Three  or  four  of  the 
boat's  crew  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  stared  after 
them  with  angry  cries  and  furious  gestures;  but  they 
did  not  offer  to  follow  into  the  open. 

"  Easy,"  puffed  Francis.  "  There  is  no  need  of 
running  any  farther,  for  they  don't  want  to  follow  us 
to  that  village." 

They  walked  forward  for  another  hundred  yards  or 
so,  and  then  halted  on  the  top  of  a  low  mound  and 
examined  Dick's  wound.  The  bullet,  evidently  a  spent 
one,  had  entered  the  muscles  of  the  thigh  to  a  depth 
of  an  inch  or  two.  They  bound  it;  and  Cremona 
again  took  Dick  in  his  arms,  and  they  proceeded. 

"  I  should  have  got  that  ball  in  return  for  nicking 
Purl,"  said  Francis. 

"  No,  it  was  meant  for  me,"  replied  Dick.  "  I 
stood  over  him  and  made  him  work  at  the  cargo  with 
his  leg  in  a  bandage." 

"  I  think  it  should  hit  you  in  the  same  place,  then, 
and  that  no  hurt,"  said  Cremona  gravely. 

By  the  fact  that  the  men  from  the  schooner  had  not 
followed  them  from  the  cove,  they  knew  that  the 


184  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

schooner  was  not  in  an  honest  way  of  trade.  She  was 
a  pirate,  undoubtedly. 

"  I  wish  we  had  been  aboard  my  own  ship,"  said 
Francis.  "  I'd  give  a  hundred  pounds  for  a  chance  to 
burn  powder  with  one  of  those  gentry.  Jove,  I'd  rather 
sink  a  pirate  than  a  Frenchman,  I  do  believe." 

The  others  were  of  the  same  way  of  thinking.  Little 
they  knew  that  the  future  held  a  chance  for  them  at  that 
same  tall  schooner  —  and,  had  they  known  the  result 
of  that  chance,  they  might  have  changed  their  wish. 

At  the  village  they  found  a  quiet  tavern,  and  a  man 
who  professed  to  a  knowledge  of  surgery.  Cremona, 
who  could  talk  sailor's  Spanish,  explained  their  plight 
with  an  amazing  story. 

Then  the  surgeon  extracted  the  bullet  from  Dick's 
thigh.  It  had  not  touched  the  bone;  and  they  were 
thankful  for  that.  Dick  was  put  to  bed,  faint  from 
loss  of  blood  and  the  pain  of  the  operation.  Francis 
sat  by  his  side  while  Cremona  went  down-stairs  and 
questioned  the  tavern-keeper.  He  learned  that  they 
were  within  thirty  miles  of  Lisbon,  in  Portugal. 

Dick's  wound  kept  the  three  in  that  insignificant 
village  for  three  weary  weeks.  As  soon  as  he  was  fit 
to  move,  they  went  to  Lisbon  by  carriage;  and  from 
there  they  travelled  into  Spain,  and  to  the  gay  city  of 
Madrid. 


An  Elusive  Quest  185 

Dick  was  not  yet  able  to  walk;  so  he  kept  to  his 
room  while  Francis  and  Cremona  hunted  through  the 
city  for  information  concerning  the  Senor  Josef  Alca- 
zardo.  They  learned  all  that  Madrid  had  to  teach 
them  on  that  subject  within  six  hours  of  their  arrival. 
This  was  the  way  of  it : 

They  were  walking  along  a  fine  street,  dressed  as 
well  as  their  limited  wardrobes  would  allow,  and 
puzzled  as  to  how  and  of  whom  to  make  inquiries, 
when  a  very  gaily  attired  old  gentleman  dropped  his 
snuff-box  almost  under  Drurie's  feet.  He  uttered  a 
shrill  little  cry  of  distress;  for  it  was  a  valuable  old 
box. 

Quick  as  a  wink,  a  ragged  fellow  in  the  crowd  had 
snatched  up  the  box  and  started  to  run  —  and,  even 
quicker  than  winking,  Francis  had  him  by  the  collar. 
He  pulled  the  box  from  his  hand,  let  him  go,  turned 
to  the  old  gentleman  with  a  bow  and  restored  his 
treasure  to  him. 

The  old  gentleman  was  almost  moved  to  tears  with 
gratitude.  He  embraced  both  Francis  and  Cremona, 
and  babbled  his  thanks. 

"  My  friend  does  not  understand  the  beautiful 
Spanish  language,"  said  Cremona,  "  but  I  can  assure 
you,  senor,  that  he  is  glad  to  have  been  able  to  serve 
you." 


186  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

The  old  gentleman  told  Cremona  his  name.  As  it 
was  nine  words  long,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  our 
story,  I  will  not  record  it. 

Cremona  bowed  in  his  best  style;  and  Francis 
bowed.  "  We  are  English  gentlemen,"  said  Cremona. 
"  My  friend  is  the  Captain  Francis  Drurie,  and  I  am 
the  Captain  Cremona  —  your  humble  servants,  senor" 

"  You  must  honour  me  with  your  company  over  a 
bottle  of  wine.  We  can  get  very  good  wine  just  across 
the  square,"  said  the  Spaniard. 

After  they  had  raised  their  glasses  to  their  mutual 
well-being,  Cremona  asked:  "  Can  you  tell  me  any- 
thing of  the  Senor  Josef  Alcazardo  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  them  both  very  sharply. 
"  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  I  can  tell  you  that  he  is  a 
rascal  and  a  cheat." 

"  We  have  suspected  as  much;  but  can  you  tell  us 
where  he  is  to  be  found  ?  "  returned  Cremona. 

"  That  I  cannot,"  answered  the  old  gentleman. 
"To  my  knowledge,  he  has  not  been  seen  hi  Madrid 
for  the  last  six  years.  I  trust  —  I  trust,  gentlemen,  that 
you  are  not  friends  of  his." 

"  Far  from  it." 

"Ah!    I  ask  no  questions." 

Cremona,  knowing  what  that  meant,  satisfied  the 
old  gentleman's  curiosity  with  a  cock-and-bull  story. 


An  Elusive  Quest  187 

In  return,  the  amiable  Spaniard  narrated  a  number  of 
unsavoury  incidents  of  Alcazardo's  career  in  Madrid. 
They  were  not  criminal,  however,  and  most  had  to  do 
with  cheating  at  play  and  such  ill-bred  peculiarities. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SOMETHING  HEARD  OF  ALCAZARDO 

FRANCIS  and  Dick  were  at  a  complete  loss  to  know 
where  they  could  search  next.  They  had  expected  great 
things  of  Madrid. 

Cremona  came  to  their  help  by  suggesting  Cadiz, 
a  port  he  had  visited  several  times  in  his  voyagings  as 
a  common  sailor.  He  held  that  a  man  with  a  bad 
name  is  more  likely  to  be  found  on  or  near  the  sea  than 
in  an  inland  district.  His  way  of  escape  is  always 
ready  to  his  hand;  and,  the  seas  being  the  great  high- 
ways of  the  world,  he  can  watch  for  his  enemies  and, 
if  need  be,  sail  out  as  they  sail  in. 

"  But  we,  you  understand,  come  at  him  from  the 
inside.  He  look  out  his  window  at  the  ships  —  we 
walk  in  his  back  door,"  he  concluded. 

Dick's  opinion  was  that,  if  he  were  hiding  anywhere 
in  Spain,  it  would  prove  to  be  in  some  rural  locality, 
away  from  the  gossip  and  traffic  of  the  cities. 

Francis  was  also  of  this  way  of  thinking;  but  he 
agreed  with  Cremona  that  the  retreat  was  more  likely 

188 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      189 

to  be  near  the  coast  than  inland.  So  they  decided  to 
go  to  Cadiz. 

It  was  a  long  journey  and  a  dangerous  one,  from  Ma- 
drid to  Cadiz.  For  the  sake  of  Dick's  leg,  it  was  made 
in  short  stages,  now  in  a  carriage,  now  in  a  country  cart, 
again  astride  horses,  mules,  or  even  donkeys.  Some- 
times they  hired  five  or  six  villagers  to  accompany  them 
through  the  districts  frequented  by  robbers,  threw  out 
scouts  and  flanking  parties,  and  advanced  in  the  best 
military  manner.  Upon  reaching  Cadiz  they  went 
to  a  quiet  house  and  informed  the  landlord  that 
they  were  English  merchants  interested  in  Spanish 
wines. 

"  We  once  purchased  a  shipment  from  a  Sefior 
Josef  Alcazardo,"  said  Cremona.  "  It  was  good  wine. 
Can  you  tell  me  where  the  gentleman  is  now  to  be 
found  ?  " 

The  innkeeper  said  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
Sefior  Alcazardo,  but  that  he  would  make  inquiries 
among  his  patrons.  Cremona  expressed  his  gratitude, 
and  proved  it  with  a  silver  coin;  then,  leaving  Dick  to 
look  after  his  leg  and  the  bags,  the  others  hired  horses 
and  rode  out  of  the  city  to  take  a  look  at  the  surround- 
ing country.  They  were  cautious  in  the  manner  of 
making  their  inquiries,  fearing  that  their  quarry  might 
get  wind  of  them  and  take  fright.  It  was  always 


190  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Cremona  who  did  the  talking.  He  had  a  way  of 
stopping  people  on  the  road  with  a  polite  and  friendly 
salutation.  "  This  is  a  fine  piece  of  country,"  he  would 
say.  He  would  ask  about  last  season's  crops,  and  so 
on;  and  then,  casually,  "I  once  met  a  gentleman 
named  Josef  Alcazardo,  who  was  from  hereabouts," 
he  would  say.  "  Perhaps  you  know  him  ?  "  j  They  spent 
a  day  at  this  sort  of  thing  without  results. 

On  the  evening  of  their  first  day  in  Cadiz,  the  inn- 
keeper came  to  the  three  travellers  with  word  that  there 
was  an  old  fellow  below  who  wanted  to  speak  with 
them. 

"  He  will  not  say  if  he  knows  anything  or  not  of 
the  Sefior  Alcazardo,  but  he  is  anxious  to  speak  with 
the  gentlemen  who  are  looking  for  the  senor,"  said 
the  innkeeper. 

"  Show  him  up,"  said  Cremona. 

It  was  old  Juan  who  entered  the  room,  cap  in  hand, 
his  thin  cheeks  slightly  flushed  by  the  wine  he  had 
imbibed  below.  He  had  guessed,  at  the  first  mention 
of  the  three  English  merchants  interested  in  wine, 
who  wanted  to  know  the  whereabouts  of  his  master, 
that  their  visit  to  Cadiz  had  to  do  with  the  beautiful 
young  lady.  He  was  not  so  anxious  to  answer  questions 
as  to  ask  them.  Belonging  to  a  district  in  which  the 
family  of  Alcazardo  was  unknown,  and  never  having 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      191 

heard  of  the  marriage  of  one  of  his  master's  brothers 
with  an  English  lady,  the  beautiful  ward  had  puzzled 
him  sorely. 

Cremona  measured  the  old  man  at  a  glance.  He 
waved  him  to  a  seat,  and  handed  him  a  glass  of  wine 
that  was  very  superior  to  the  vintage  which  the  fellow 
had  been  drinking  hi  the  public  room  below. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  the  Senor  Josef 
Alcazardo?"  he  asked,  in  his  fluent  but  uncouth 
Spanish. 

Juan  looked  exceedingly  crafty.  "  That's  as  may 
be,  senor.  What  do  you  want  to  know  of  my  master  ?  " 

"  Ho,  ho!  So  he  is  your  master,  is  he?  "  cried  Cre- 
mona. 

The  old  fellow's  jaw  dropped  dismally.  He  had 
not  meant  to  let  that  pop  out  so  soon.  He  had  meant 
to  draw  pay  for  that  bit  of  information.  Cremona 
saw  his  dismay  and  chagrin,  and  laughed  boisterously. 
Dick,  who  had  learned  a  little  Spanish  in  his  childhood, 
laughed,  too,  and  told  the  good  news  and  the  joke  to 
Francis. 

Hope  sprang  high  in  their  hearts;  and  Cremona 
saw  that  they  were  about  to  heap  questions,  in  two 
languages,  upon  the  foolish  old  man.  He  signalled  to 
them  with  his  hand  to  keep  quiet. 

"  We  have  business   with  your  master,"  he  said. 


192  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  He  will  be  very  glad  to  see  us,  for  we  are  relatives 
of  the  young  lady,  his  niece." 

"  Of  the  senorita?  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  English 
relatives  of  the  Senorita  Isobel  ?  Ah,  that  is  interesting. 
I  can  see,  at  a  glance,  that  the  two  younger  gentlemen 
are  English;  but  not  you,  senor.  Still,  let  that  pass. 
I  have  wondered  about  the  beautiful  young  lady's 
relatives.  And  is  it  true,  senor,  that  the  Senor  Al- 
cazardo  is  her  uncle  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  true.  And  he  is  her  guardian,  as  well," 
replied  Cremona.  "But  these  gentlemen  are  her  near 
relatives,  and  we  have  come  a  long  way  to  visit  your 
master  and  the  young  lady." 

"  Well,  well,  to  think  of  it  —  and  the  two  of  them  gone 
away  these  months  back,"  said  Juan. 

"What  d'ye  say?  Where  have  they  gone  to?" 
cried  Dick,  limping  forward  and  clutching  the  old 
fellow's  shoulder. 

Juan  shrank  back. 

"  Leave  him  to  me.  The  man  is  honest  enough, 
but  a  bit  of  a  fool,"  said  Cremona,  in  English.  Then, 
to  Juan,  "  The  English  gentleman  is  of  a  quick  temper, 
but  you  must  not  mind  him,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  when 
your  master  and  the  lady  went  away,  and  where  they 
went  to.  Here  is  a  little  piece  of  the  right  colour  that 
you  may  be  able  to  make  some  use  of."  He  passed  a 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      193 

gold  coin  into  the  old  fellow's  hand.  "  We  are  anxious 
to  know  how  it  is  that  the  senor  went  away  without 
taking  his  invaluable  servant  along  with  him." 

Juan  told  every  word  that  he  knew  and  a  great  deal 
that  he  only  suspected.  He  had  been  about  five  years 
in  Alcazardo's  employ,  and  had  come,  ten  years 
before,  from  a  distant  part  of  Spain.  He  was  the  care- 
taker of  the  big  house  which  Alcazardo  owned,  and  had 
never  seen  very  much  of  his  employer.  The  house  was 
usually  empty;  and  even  when  he  was  there  Alcazardo 
made  no  display  and  received  but  few  visitors.  He 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  city  of  Cadiz  or  with  his 
neighbours,  rich  or  poor.  In  fact,  admitted  Juan,  it 
was  as  much  as  his  position  was  worth  to  mention  the 
senor' s  name. 

He  had  an  idea  that  the  senor  was  a  great  man  in 
Madrid,  and  there  spent  all  his  time  and  money. 
Well,  he'd  not  set  eyes  on  his  master  for  a  matter  of  two 
years,  when,  one  fine  day,  he  drove  up  in  a  carriage 
with  the  beautiful  young  lady  beside  him.  The  young 
lady  had  found  the  house  very  dull.  His  master  had 
engaged  two  more  servants  immediately  —  one  of 
them  a  maid  for  the  senorita  —  and  they  had  lived  on 
the  fat  of  the  land. 

Yes,  the  senor  treated  the  young  lady  like  a  queen. 
And  so  on  and  so  on.  The  old  man  forgot  nothing.  He 


194  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

told  of  the  visits  of  the  man  with  the  black  beard,  of 
Alcazardo's  departure  by  night,  of  the  note  for  Isobel, 
and  of  her  sudden  departure.  He  explained  that  his 
granddaughter,  the  maid,  had  gone  with  her  mistress. 

"  And  where  did  they  go  ?  And  how  did  they  go  ?  " 
asked  Cremona,  after  he  had  translated  everything  for 
Francis. 

Juan  begged  permission  to  replenish  his  glass.  He 
took  a  slow  sip  or  two  with  the  air  of  a  man  about  to 
disclose  the  result  of  some  very  deep  thinking. 

"  In  the  letter  to  the  senorita,"  he  said,  "  the  senor 
wrote  that  they  were  bound  for  England.  But  I  do 
not  think  that  was  the  truth,  for  there  are  many  fine 
vessels  hi  the  city  that  sail  frequently  to  England  — 
and  yet  the  senor  did  not  sail  from  Cadiz,  but  from  a 
little  cove  miles  away  from  here,  in  a  wild  country.  I 
discovered  this  by  much  toil  and  wit,  for  the  senor 
did  not  confide  hi  me.  I  found  the  man  who  had 
driven  the  carriage,  on  both  occasions;  and  from  him 
learned  that  the  senor,  the  senorita,  and  Maria  had 
been  rowed  away  from  the  shore  hi  a  small  boat  and 
had  been  taken  aboard  a  schooner. 

"  At  first  I  thought  that  the  senor  had  gone  away 
hi  this  secret  manner  simply  to  give  the  slip  to  people 
who  might  be  pressing  him  for  money;  but  later,  after 
much  reflection,  I  decided  that  it  was  not  for  lack  of 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      195 

money  that  my  master  practised  such  a  sly  way  of  life 
in  general.  So  I  went  again  to  the  man  who  had 
driven  the  carriage;  and  from  him  I  learned,  after 
paying  money  I  could  ill  afford,  that  the  man  with  the 
black  beard  and  the  senor  were  partners  in  a  queer 
business  that  sounded  to  him  like  smuggling  —  or 
worse. 

"  He  had  overheard  a  few  words  to  put  this  idea 
in  his  head.  Also  he  had  heard  the  senor  tell  the  man 
with  the  black  beard  that,  though  he  was  not  going  to 
England,  yet  he  intended  to  live  a  quiet  life  from  now 
on  and  would,  some  day,  settle  down  hi  one  of  the 
English  colonies  as  a  very  proper  old  gentleman.  So 
you  may  be  sure  that  the  senor  and  the  young  lady  have 
not  gone  to  England." 

The  three  gentlemen  were  greatly  relieved  in  their 
minds  by  the  information  obtained  from  Juan.  Though 
it  made  their  quest  seem  all  the  more  hopeless,  yet  it 
led  them  to  believe  that  Isobel  was  not  in  immediate 
danger,  in  whatever  part  of  the  world  she  might  be. 

Alcazardo  had  stolen  her  money;  but,  evidently,  he 
was  keeping  up  the  play  of  being  her  affectionate  uncle. 
Perhaps  he  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  they  had  feared. 
Perhaps  he  was  only  a  thief  and  a  liar,  after  all.  It 
might  be  that  he  was  even  planning  to  return  to  Vir- 
ginia, fortified  against  Fairwood  by  Isobel's  trust  and 


196  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

ready  to  meet  the  charge  of  theft  with  a  pack  of  plau- 
sible lies. 

Drurie  and  Cremona  accompanied  old  Juan  back 
to  Alcazardo's  house  and  heard  the  same  story  from 
the  lips  of  his  daughter,  who  had  been  the  cook  during 
IsobePs  brief  stay  in  the  place.  The  old  man  and  his 
daughter,  and  the  daughter's  husband  and  children, 
occupied  the  servants'  quarters  of  the  house,  rent  free. 

The  woman  spoke  highly  of  Alcazardo.  Indeed,  in 
that  part  of  the  world  he  had  never  shown  his  cloven 
hoof. 

"  The  senor  has  a  kind  heart,"  said  the  woman, 
"  and  his  manners  are  beautiful.  He  was  like  a  father 
to  the  senorita" 

They  gave  old  Juan  a  package  of  blank  paper 
addressed  to  a  firm  of  merchants  hi  Bristol,  and  another 
addressed  to  a  firm  in  London;  and  these  he  was  to 
despatch  by  the  earliest  opportunity  after  seeing  or 
hearing  anything  more  of  his  master's  movements. 
Then  they  paid  him  well  for  his  information  and  re- 
turned to  their  inn. 

It  was  April  when  Francis  and  Dick  and  Cremona 
got  back  to  Bristol.  There  they  found  Mr.  Henry 
Fairwood,  of  Fairwood  Manor,  Virginia,  waiting  for 
them. 

Fairwood  had  come  to  England  to  learn  what  he 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      197 

could  about  Alcazardo,  and  had  already  heard  what 
the  London  bankers  had  to  tell.  Arriving  in  Bristol, 
he  had  learned  from  Nicholas  that  Francis  and  two 
friends  had  gone  to  London  and  from  there  to  Spain; 
and  so  he  had  settled  himself  comfortably  to  await 
their  return. 

After  recovering  from  the  meeting  with  Dick,  he 
heard  the  story  of  their  quest. 

"  I'll  go  to  that  place,"  he  swore,  "  and  I'll  live  in 
that  house  —  and  there  I'll  be  if  that  rascal  ever  comes 
home.  Caesar,  he'll  find  me  at  headquarters;  and  if 
he  won't  give  me  the  girl  quietly,  I'll  put  a  bullet  in 
his  heart!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  BRAVE  ADVENTURE  A  GOOD  FIGHTER 

MR.  FAIRWOOD  did  not  start  for  Spain  until  after 
the  sailing  of  the  Brave  Adventure  for  Hudson  Bay. 
Francis  was  still  in  command  of  the  ship;  for  Fairwood 
had  urged  him  not  to  give  up  his  work.  He  had  pointed 
out  that  nothing  could  be  done  beyond  keeping  a  sharp 
eye  on  the  house  near  Cadiz  —  and  that  was  what  he 
himself  meant  to  do. 

"  If  he  so  much  as  shows  his  nose  I'll  be  on  him," 
said  the  old  man.  "  Go  and  do  your  work,  lad,  and 
trust  to  fate  —  aye,  and  to  your  Uncle  Henry.  'Twill 
all  come  right,  I  tell  you.  The  man  hasn't  courage 
enough  to  do  more  than  steal  and  lie  and  make  a 
monkey  of  himself.  You'll  find  that  I  have  the  girl 
safe  and  sound  when  you  get  back,  never  fear." 

So  Francis  sailed  away  on  the  Brave  Adventure,  and 
Mr.  Fairwood  set  out  next  day  for  Spain,  with  hope 
and  courage  in  his  heart,  and  the  two  trusty  servants 
he  had  brought  with  him  all  the  way  from  Vir- 
ginia. 

198 


A  Good  Fighter  199 

With  Captain  Francis  Drurie  sailed  two  gentlemen 
adventurers  who  had  not  made  the  first  voyage  — 
Mr.  St.  George  and  Captain  Cremona.  Both  these 
gentlemen  had  wanted  to  help  Mr.  Fairwood  in  his 
passive  game  in  Spain;  but  they  had  been  told  to  go 
about  their  business  like  men.  So  they  had  gone, 
feeling  deep  in  their  hearts  that  there  was  as  much 
likelihood  of  finding  Alcazardo  on  the  sea  as  in 
Spain. 

The  master  of  the  Brave  Adventure  was  a  middle- 
aged  mariner  named  Benjamin  Danvers.  He  was  a 
brave,  capable  fellow  and  a  great  admirer  and  firm 
friend  of  Drurie's.  Under  him  were  two  mates,  a 
boatswain,  and  twelve  sailors.  Under  Drurie's  con- 
trol were  his  lieutenant,  young  Lawrence  Prowse,  two 
adventurers  besides  Dick  and  Cremona,  Duff  and 
Tizard  by  name,  Master-gunners  Mann  and  Tyler, 
four  gunners'  mates  and  a  master-armourer. 

Drurie  was  in  command  of  the  ship;  but  Danvers 
was  supreme  as  sailing-master.  It  was  for  Drurie 
to  name  the  course,  but  for  the  master  to  sail  it.  It 
was  not  in  the  commander's  province  to  give  orders 
to,  or  in  any  way  interfere  with,  the  sailors  at  their 
work;  but  the  moment  the  guns  were  manned  the 
master,  his  mates,  and  his  mariners  came  under 
Drurie's  command  in  everything.  This  system  of 


200  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

marine  administration  called  for  tact  and  fairminded- 
ness  on  the  part  of  the  commander  and  the  master, 
and,  indeed,  on  the  part  of  all  the  officers. 

The  Brave  Adventure  soon  had  the  rest  of  the  little 
fleet  hull-down  astern.  Shortly  before  sunset,  Drurie 
ascended  to  the  high  poop-deck,  with  the  master  at 
his  right  hand,  Mr.  Prowse  at  his  left,  and  the  gentle- 
men and  the  two  mates  behind  him.  The  boatswain 
piped  both  watches  on  deck  and  paraded  them  in  the 
waist  of  the  ship. 

It  was  a  scene  typical  of  those  rough,  unsophisticated 
days  when  manliness  was  the  common  characteristic 
of  all  classes  of  Englishmen.  The  fellows  in  the  waist 
were  of  all  ages  and  all  sizes.  The  boatswain  was  a 
thin  little  man  of  over  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  long 
white  scar  on  his  brown  neck,  two  fingers  gone  from 
his  right  hand,  a  pigtail  tarred  like  a  stay,  a  whimsical 
mouth  and  eyes  as  round  and  quick  as  a  bird's.  One 
of  the  master-gunners  was  big,  elderly,  and  ruddy- 
faced;  the  other  lank,  young,  and  brown  of  skin. 
The  master- armourer  had  the  face  and  bearing  of  a 
parson's  clerk;  but  his  earrings,  crimson  sash,  and 
great  boots  of  yellow  Spanish  leather  suggested  a  less 
peaceful  way  of  life.  The  variety  of  age,  attire,  and 
physical  appearance  continued  throughout  the  re- 
mainder of  the  crew.  The  officers  on  the  poop  were 


A  Good  Fighter  201 

scarcely  more   uniform  in   any  of  these   particulars. 
All  except  the  two  mates  wore  their  swords. 

Francis  Drurie's  face  was  thin  and  pale;  but,  as 
he  looked  down  at  his  men,  his  eyes  brightened  and  a 
tinge  of  red  warmed  his  cheeks. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  here  we  are  again,  bound  on  a 
long  and  rough  voyage.  We'll  run  the  risks  of  fog, 
wind  and  drifting  ice.  But  we  have  good  timber  under 
our  feet  and  good  spars  and  hemp  aloft,  and  honest 
work  to  do  for  the  king  and  the  company.  Speaking 
for  Master  Danvers  and  myself,  and  the  other  officers, 
I  ask  you  to  show  the  same  courage  and  willingness  as 
you  showed  last  year.  I  ask  no  more  than  that.  Let 
the  new  men  follow  the  old,  and  they'll  not  go  wrong 
—  for  the  lads  who  sailed  with  me  last  voyage  proved 
themselves  hearts  of  oak.  Do  your  work  as  honest 
sailors  and  you  shall  be  treated  as  all  honest  lads  are 
treated  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure.  Boatswain,  rum 
for  all  hands." 

He  lifted  his  hat  to  the  rough  fellows,  smiled  down 
at  them  and  turned  away.  Then  the  crew  roared  all 
together  as  one  man.  They  waved  their  tarry  hands 
aloft  and  shouted  their  commander's  name  with  all 
their  might.  Drurie  turned  and  bowed  again,  his  face 
aglow  and  his  eyes  gleaming. 

Dick,  who  went  by  the  name  of  St.  George,  and  Cre- 


202  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

mona  got  along  finely  with  the  other  gentlemen  and  the 
crew.  Dick  was  not  inclined  to  talk,  and  Cremona 
was  inclined  to  chatter  all  the  time;  and  yet  they 
were  both  popular.  Cremona  told  wonderful  stories 
of  famous  people  and  strange  places  —  few  of  which, 
I  fear,  were  true.  But  they  were  interesting  tales  and 
ruined  no  reputations. 

Fore  and  aft,  peace  and  good  will  reigned  aboard  the 
Brave  Adventure.  The  commander  and  the  master 
never  dashed,  the  gentlemen  engaged  in  no  bickerings; 
the  men  did  their  work  and  sang  their  songs  and  kept 
their  knives  to  cut  their  salt  beef  and  scrape  the  spars 
with.  No  head  winds  came  to  delay  them,  and  no  fog 
shrouded  them;  and  so,  for  eight  days,  the  little  ship 
held  peacefully  on  her  course,  all  well  inboard  and 
overboard,  aloft  and  alow. 

On  the  morning  of  the  ninth  day  out  of  Bristol, 
while  the  gentlemen  were  breakfasting,  White,  the 
second  mate,  thrust  his  head  into  the  cabin. 

"  Schooner  on  the  port  quarter,  sir,  bearing  up  under 
all  sail,"  he  said. 

This  was  addressed  to  Drurie;  but  the  commander 
turned  to  Danvers  as  if  to  refer  the  matter  to 
him. 

Danvers  left  his  seat  at  the  crowded  table. 

"  She  may  be  a  French  privateer,  sir,  or  a  Sallee 


A  Good  Fighter  203 

rover  or  some  other  breed  of  pirate,"  he  said.  "  What 
are  your  wishes,  sir  ?  " 

"  Hold  to  your  course  under  reduced  sail,  Master 
Danvers/'  replied  Francis. 

Danvers  grinned  and  hurried  from  the  cabin.  The 
gentlemen  ceased  talking  and  began  to  eat  very  fast, 
eager  to  get  on  deck. 

The  Brave  Adventure's  mainsail  was  furled  and  two 
of  her  jibs  were  hauled  down.  This  reduced  her  pace 
by  several  knots  an  hour.  All  hands  gathered  on 
the  decks  for  a  look  at  the  strange  vessel  that  was  so 
openly  cracking  on  all  sail  to  overhaul  them.  They 
were  of  opinion  that  the  schooner  was  not  a  trading 
vessel;  and  in  this  their  hearts  spoke.  The  schooner 
grew  momentarily  to  the  view.  Francis  studied  her 
through  his  telescope  for  a  long  time,  without  comment. 
The  master,  standing  beside  him,  also  had  his  glass 
bearing  on  her. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  her?  "  asked  Francis. 

"  I  make  her  either  Spanish  or  English,  sir,  an'  a 
smart  craft,"  replied  Danvers. 

Drurie  handed  his  telescope  to  Cremona.  "  Tell 
me  if  you  ever  saw  anything  just  like  her  before,"  he 
said. 

Cremona  looked,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
wonder  and  delight.  "  I  think  I  see  her  one  day  — 


204  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

or  her  very  twin  sister  —  off  the  coast  o'  Portugal," 
he  said. 

Francis  Drurie  laughed  lightly  and,  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  fell  to  pacing  the  narrow  deck 
from  rail  to  rail.  He  felt  sure  that  the  approaching 
vessel  was  an  enemy  of  some  sort.  Ten  to  one  it  was 
the  same  craft  that  gave  them  such  a  dashing  shoreward 
race  on  the  day  they  beached  the  Merry  Andrew  on 
the  rocks  of  the  desolate  cove. 

Here  was  something  to  take  his  mind  for  a  little 
while  off  his  gnawing  worries.  Here  he  was,  with  his 
own  ship  under  him  and  trusty  men  round  him  on  the 
threshold  of  his  first  sea-fight.  His  blood  drummed  in 
his  arteries  and  he  felt  an  impulse  to  shout. 

But  he  must  keep  cool.  Here  were  thirty  men  and 
a  fine  ship  ready  to  do  his  bidding.  He  must  keep  clear- 
headed, and  prove  himself  worthy  of  their  trust.  He 
halted,  turned  a  flushed  face  toward  the  schooner,  and 
then  touched  Danvers  on  the  arm. 

"  We  must  fight  to  a  finish,"  he  said.  "  I  want  play 
at  long  range  for  a  little  while;  and  if  that  does  not  fix 
her,  broadsides  at  pistol-range.  But  do  not  let  her 
get  her  irons  on  us,  for  they  may  be  three  to  our 
one.  Now  it  is  for  you  to  sail  and  for  me  to 
fight." 

Danvers  grasped  the  commander's  hand.     "  I'll  do 


A  Good  Fighter  205 

my  best,  captain,"  said  he.     "I'll  lay  her  to  your 
taste,  sir,  never  fear." 

The  schooner  was  sweeping  up  on  them  at  a  fine 
pace,  now  pitching  high,  now  dippping  her  sharp  bow 
deep  as  the  gilded  fiddles.  Danvers  shot  a  calculating 
glance  at  her,  and  then  bellowed  forward.  In  a  minute 
the  big  mainsail  was  shaken  out  again  and  the  brig 
sprang  ahead.  Drurie,  who  was  inspecting  the  crews 
of  the  guns,  noticed  this  and  smiled.  He  knew  that 
Danvers  was  not  running  away. 

Still  the  schooner  drew  nearer.  A  topsail  was  furled 
aboard  the  brig  and  the  two  upper  jibs  were  run  up 
again.  The  master  wanted  her  just  so,  and  was  sparing 
no  pains  to  get  her  exactly  suited  to  his  needs.  He 
wanted  her  swift  and  handy  at  the  same  time.  The 
mate  seemed  to  echo  his  commands  almost  before  they 
were  clear  of  his  lips.  The  first  mate  stood  by  the 
mainmast  and  the  second  by  the  fore.  The  boatswain's 
pipe  shrilled  merrily.  The  commander  went  the 
rounds  of  the  little  ship,  with  a  word  of  encouragement 
for  every  one. 

He  gave  Prowse  command  of  one  broadside  of  four 
heavy  cannon  and  Dick  command  of  the  other.  He 
posted  Tizard  forward  with  the  bow-chaser  and  Duff 
aft  with  the  four  swivels.  He  kept  Cremona  with 
him;  and  Nicholas  followed  the  two,  with  his  master's 


206  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

telescope  under  one  arm  and  a  cutlass  under  the 
other. 

The  decks  were  cleared  for  action.  Cutlasses  and 
muskets  were  served  to  all  hands,  the  guns  loaded  and 
the  linstocks  and  pots  of  red  coals  were  brought  to 
the  gunners.  Now  Danvers  had  the  sails  to  his  liking, 
and  handed  over  eight  of  his  mariners  to  Drurie  for 
service  with  the  guns. 

The  schooner,  still  drawing  gradually  nearer,  fired 
a  gun  from  her  bows.  The  shot  fell  short  of  the  brig. 
At  that,  Drurie  ran  up  the  red  ensign  of  England.  In 
answer,  a  great  square  of  black  crawled  up  to  the 
foretop  of  the  schooner.  A  roar  of  anger  and  derision 
went  up  from  the  decks  of  the  Brave  Adventure.  Drurie 
left  the  poop  and  again  made  a  round  of  the  guns,  the 
men  cheering  at  the  sight  of  him.  Again  the  schooner 
fired,  with  the  same  lack  of  result  as  before. 

The  brig  swung  southward  a  few  points.  Then 
Mr.  Prowse,  who  commanded  the  guns  on  the  port 
side,  took  off  his  coat,  bared  his  right  arm  to  the  elbow 
and  drew  his  sword.  He  came  of  a  sea-fighting  family 
and  had  the  heart  of  a  giant  behind  his  ribs;  but  he 
was  young,  slender  of  build,  with  a  pink-and-white 
face  and  an  arm  like  a  girl's. 

"  Man  your  guns,  my  lads,"  he  cried.  "  We'll 
have  the  first  crack  at  them,  by  the  looks  of  things. 


A  Good  Fighter  207 

It  will  be  a  guinea  for  each  gun  if  the  splinters  fly  at 
the  first  round." 

The  schooner  was  nearer  now,  heading  a  trifle  more 
to  the  westward,  with  the  wind  fair  over  her  taffrail. 
Now  she  furled  her  topsail  and  stowed  her  gafftopsail. 
Again  she  fired;  and  this  time  the  shot  went  skipping 
over  the  water  about  fifty  yards  from  the  brig's  stern. 
Prowse  looked  up  anxiously  at  Drurie.  Drurie  met 
the  glance  and  nodded. 

"  On  her  hull,  lads,"  cried  Prowse.  "  Not  too  high. 
Steady.  Fire!" 

The  priming  hi  the  touch-holes  flashed  and  the  big 
guns  roared  and  recoiled,  and  the  white  smoke  poured 
out  and  clung  to  the  jumping  seas. 

From  the  brig  the  eager  watchers  saw  a  stick  of 
timber  spring  up  from  the  schooner's  rail  and  rip 
through  her  mainsail. 

"  So  we  gets  our  money,  I  take  it,"  observed  an 
ancient  mariner. 

After  another  volley  from  Mr.  Prowse's  guns  which 
hulled  the  schooner  high  above  the  water-line,  the 
Brave  Adventure  circled  to  the  west  and  north  again. 
The  schooner  shifted  after  her,  firing  again  and  again 
from  the  great  gun  in  her  bows,  bent  on  knocking  a 
spar  out  of  her  quarry  and  then  getting  to  close  quarters. 

Twenty  minutes  passed  in  silence  aboard  the  brig. 


208  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

A  ball  from  the  pirate  entered  the  empty  forecastle. 
Another  sank  into  the  heavy  timber  under  the  neck 
of  the  tiller.  Then  Dick's  guns  bellowed  out,  hurling 
their  iron  defiance  into  the  enemy's  rigging.  The 
schooner  swung  and  replied  with  a  broadside  of  light 
metal  that  did  nothing  more  than  knock  a  few  splinters 
into  the  air. 

The  vessels  drew  gradually  closer,  sailing  the  same 
course,  with  the  schooner  to  windward.  Musketry 
fire  opened  on  the  schooner  and  the  balls  began  hum- 
ming over  the  brig's  bulwarks.  Then  Dick's  four 
guns  spoke  again  and  the  schooner's  foretopmast 
fell  to  port,  and  hung  in  a  useless  mass  of  flapping 
canvas  and  tangled  cordage.  And  that  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end. 

Danvers  worked  the  Brave  Adventure  to  windward 
of  the  crippled  pirate.  Keeping  clear  of  her  heavy 
bow-chaser,  he  gave  Drurie  the  opportunity  to  send 
broadside  after  broadside  into  her.  There  was  no 
danger  now  of  the  grappling-irons  of  the  schooner 
getting  their  clutch  upon  the  brig. 

The  company's  vessel  chose  her  position  and  bat- 
tered her  late  pursuer  at  any  range  that  suggested 
itself  to  the  master  and  the  commander. 

Surrender  is  a  thing  unknown  to  craft  of  the  schoon- 
er's kidney  —  for  a  man  had  better  die  fighting  than 


A  Good  Fighter  209 

kicking  his  feet  in  the  air  with  a  rope  around  his  neck. 
So  the  schooner's  black  flag  flew  until  the  topmast  fell, 
and  was  then  run  up  in  the  mizzen  rigging. 

At  last  Drurie  requested  the  master  to  lay  the  brig 
aboard  the  disabled,  shattered  hulk.  It  was  accom- 
plished within  fifteen  minutes  of  the  word,  Mr.  Prowse 
scorching  the  schooner's  side  with  a  final  volley  of 
his  guns  even  as  the  two  vessels  came  together.  Irons 
were  thrown,  and  the  big,  broken  schooner  and  the 
little,  uninjured  brig  closed  in  a  death-grip.  This 
was  the  pirate's  last  chance. 

Her  company  of  eighty  cutthroats  had  been  reduced 
to  a  disorganized  handful  by  the  gun  and  musket  fire 
of  the  brig;  but  that  desperate  handful  scrambled 
aboard  the  Brave  Adventure. 

The  first  to  leap  upon  the  brig's  deck  was  a  short, 
sturdy  fellow  with  a  great,  black  beard  twisted  into  a 
dozen  little  tails,  each  tail  tied  with  a  yellow  ribbon. 
He  flashed  a  cutlass  and  roared  like  a  bull.  But 
Cremona  met  him  —  and  that  was  the  end  of  the 
career  of  Black  Monk,  one  of  the  bloodiest  pirates 
of  the  time  and  a  business  acquaintance  of  the  Senor 
Josef  Alcazardo. 

His  followers  were  speedily  served  in  the  same  way, 
every  rogue  of  them  fighting  to  the  last.  The  decks  of 
the  Brave  Adventure  ran  red  with  the  blood  of  her 


210  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

enemies.  After  twenty  minutes  of  this  frantic  struggle 
there  was  not  a  pirate  left  to  hang  to  the  yard- 
arm. 

Francis  Drurie  and  a  small  escort  went  aboard  the 
schooner  to  investigate.  They  found  her  in  ballast. 
The  hull  was  shot  through  in  a  dozen  places,  and 
she  was  filling  fast.  Every  spar  was  more  or  less 
disabled.  Every  gun  was  dismounted  and  dead  men 
sprawled  everywhere.  A  fire  was  smouldering  in  a 
mass  of  fallen  sails  on  the  forecastle-head.  Amidships, 
in  the  litter  of  corpses,  splintered  wood,  blood,  and 
overthrown  gear,  lay  several  puncheons  of  rum  with 
the  bungs  out.  The  rank  liquor  mixed  with  the  ranker 
blood  in  the  scuppers. 

Drurie  entered  the  houses  under  the  high  poop- 
deck.  On  the  table  in  the  outer  cabin  lay  scattered 
playing-cards,  a  couple  of  leather  dice-boxes,  and  a 
broken  bottle.  The  table  was  wet,  and  a  puddle  of 
wine  lay  on  the  table.  Mr.  Prowse  stooped  and  picked 
something  from  the  floor.  It  was  a  small  shot  from 
one  of  the  brig's  swivels. 

"  Duff  broke  the  bottle,"  he  remarked,  with  a 
nervous  laugh. 

Duff  laughed,  too,  quite  immoderately.  They  were 
young  men;  and,  though  they  had  made  more  than 
one  voyage,  this  was  their  first  experience  in  exter- 


AFTER    TWENTY     MINUTES     OF     THIS     FRANTIC     STRUGGLE 
THERE    WAS     NOT    A    PIRATE    LEFT." 


A  Good  Fighter 


minating  pirates.  They  were  both  a  trifle  shaken, 
beyond  a  doubt. 

Tizard  was  cooler.  He  had  once  sailed  a  voyage 
to  the  West  Indies  as  a  midshipman  aboard  a  sloop- 
of-war. 

"  I  put  a  shot  hereabouts,"  he  said,  hunting  around. 
"  Danvers  didn't  give  me  many  chances;  but  I  took 
what  he  gave.  Ah,  here  we  are!  "  He  pointed  with 
an  air  of  satisfaction  at  a  hole  low  in  the  port  side 
of  the  cabin  and  at  another  low  in  the  starboard  side. 
"  I  wish  they'd  been  playing  cards  when  that  went 
through,"  he  said. 

Drurie  kicked  open  a  door  in  the  forward  bulkhead 
and  passed  into  the  inner  cabin,  with  his  gentlemen 
crowding  after  him.  The  cabin  was  a  fine  one,  gilded 
and  carved  and  hung  with  silk.  It  was  the  full  width 
of  the  stern.  There  were  long  lockers  aft,  under  the 
square  ports,  and  a  bunk  against  the  forward  bulk- 
head. Fine  rugs  covered  the  deck  underfoot.  The 
gentlemen  kicked  these  rugs  into  a  heap  and  soon  found 
a  little  hatch.  It  was  locked;  so  they  broke  it  open 
with  an  ax.  In  a  twinkling  they  were  down  in  the 
lazaretto.  Only  the  commander  and  two  seamen 
remained  above  in  the  cabin. 

Drurie  went  to  the  bunk  and  felt  under  the  pillows 
and  mattress.  First  he  produced  a  small  pistol, 


212  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

beautifully  inlaid  with  gold  and  mother-of-pearl. 
This  he  passed  to  one  of  the  men,  who  placed  it  on 
the  table.  Next  came  a  small  leather  bag  full  of  all 
manner  of  sparkling  gems;  then  a  canvas  bag  full  of 
gold  corns,  another  of  silver  coins,  and  yet  another  of 
all  kinds  of  gold  and  silver  trinkets,  some  with  jewels 
set  in  them,  and  some  without. 

As  the  men  spread  the  contents  of  the  bags  on  the 
table,  Drurie  glanced  over  them  indifferently.  But 
suddenly,  with  a  sharp  cry,  he  stepped  forward  and 
snatched  up  one  of  the  trinkets. 

It  was  a  small  gold  cross,  studded  with  pearls. 

He  held  it  close  to  his  eyes,  staring  horribly.  His 
face  went  gray  as  ashes.  "  My  God!  "  he  cried,  leaning 
heavily  against  the  table. 

Two  of  the  seamen  put  their  arms  about  him.  Still 
he  stared  at  the  little  cross  hi  the  palm  of  his  hand.  At 
that  moment,  Dick  came  up  from  the  lazaretto  with 
two  dull  bars  of  silver  hi  his  arms;  but  at  sight  of  his 
friend's  face  he  let  them  fall  and  sprang  forward. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  he  cried,  pushing  one 
of  the  men  aside. 

Drurie  shook  his  head  and  held  the  little  cross  before 
Dick's  eyes.  Dick  looked  at  it,  wonderingly  at  first, 
and  then  with  a  light  of  terrified  recognition  in  his 
eyes. 


A  Good  Fighter  213 

Yes,  it  was  like  the  cross  his  sister  had  always  worn  at 
her  throat,  since  she  was  a  little  girl.  He  remembered 
now  —  Francis  had  given  it  to  her  for  a  birthday  gift. 

Suddenly  Drurie  slipped  the  cross  into  his  pocket 
and  began  to  hunt  through  the  other  trinkets.  He 
spread  the  little  pile  of  gold  and  silver  with  trembling 
fingers.  Here  were  rings  and  brooches,  bracelets 
and  earrings;  but  not  one  of  these  did  he  recognize 
as  ever  having  been  worn  by  Isobel. 

Dick,  reading  his  thought,  began  searching  through 
the  contents  of  the  other  bags;  but  nothing  other  than 
the  pearl-studded  cross  resembled  anything  of  IsobePs. 

"  There  are  a  thousand  crosses  like  that  in  the  world," 
said  Dick. 

"  I  hope  it  is  so,"  replied  Francis,  looking  about 
him  like  one  just  awakened  from  an  evil  dream. 

Now,  all  the  gentlemen  were  up  from  the  lazaretto, 
with  a  small  treasure  of  bar  silver,  silks,  spices,  and 
such  costly  merchandise. 

A  sailor  looked  into  the  cabin.  "  She  be  settlin' 
fast,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  Gather  up  the  stuff,"  ordered  Drurie,  "  and  get 
back  to  the  brig." 

Then  he  searched  every  inch  of  the  cabin,  tearing 
down  the  hangings  with  his  hands;  but  nothing  of 
IsobePs  could  he  find. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ISOBEL   LEARNS   HER   UNCLE'S   REAL   NATURE 

ALCAZARDO'S  little  schooner,  the  Twelve  Apostles, 
bore  westward  and  southward  across  the  Atlantic 
day  after  day,  with  fine  weather  and  fair  winds. 

Once  she  was  sighted  and  followed  for  a  few  hours 
by  an  English  war-ship,  and  on  another  occasion  a 
big  topsail- schooner  wasted  half  a  day  hi  driving 
along  in  her  wake. 

When  Isobel  recovered  from  the  swoon  caused  by 
Alcazardo's  sudden  disclosure  of  his  duplicity,  she 
found  herself  hi  a  tiny  cabin,  lying  hi  a  narrow  berth, 
with  Maria  bending  over  her.  She  stared  vaguely  at  the 
maid  for  a  moment,  then  remembered  and  understood. 

For  a  little  while  anger  and  scorn  drove  fear  and 
caution  from  her,  and  she  went  straight  up  to  the  deck 
and  charged  her  uncle  with  being  a  liar  and  a  rascal. 
He  laughed  quietly;  but  later  he  came  down  to  her 
cabin  and  warned  her  against  another  such  outbreak. 
He  spoke  calmly  enough,  but  she  trembled  before  the 
light  in  his  eyes. 

214 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  215 

"  And  I  want  you  and  your  maid  to  understand," 
he  said,  "  that  I  am  not  known  aboard  this  craft  or 
on  my  island  as  either  Alcazardo  or  your  uncle.  I  am 
Captain  Gomez,  and  you  are  my  daughter.  Under- 
stand this,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

For  two  weeks  Isobel  did  not  once  look  at  or  speak 
to  her  uncle;  but  at  last  it  came  to  her  that  her  only 
hope  of  ever  escaping  from  him  lay  in  hiding  her  real 
feelings  from  him  as  much  as  possible.  She  was  young, 
and  while  she  lived  there  would  always  be  hope;  but 
worldly  hope  cannot  survive  death. 

Yes,  she  was  young,  and  life  meant  the  chance  of 
finding  her  lover  again.  She  would  try  to  hide  her 
hate  and  suffering.  She  would  watch  the  rascal.  If 
need  be,  she  would  kill  him.  She  would  treasure  her 
life  day  by  day,  guarding  it  with  lies  and  deception. 
She  would  risk  everything  but  her  honour  to  save  it; 
for,  if  life  were  to  bring  her  again  to  her  lover,  it  was 
dearer  to  her  than  everything  but  honour. 

When  the  island  was  sighted  she  pretended  interest 
in  it.  Her  uncle  smiled  sardonically.  But  he  loved  to 
talk,  possessing  the  social  instinct  to  an  amazing 
degree.  He  told  her,  in  glowing  terms,  what  a  charm- 
ing spot  it  was,  and  of  the  beautiful  house  surrounded 
by  groves  and  gardens. 

She  looked  at  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes.     The 


216  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

tears  were  genuine,  but  the  pleading,  trusting  tones  in 
which  she  spoke  to  him  were  not. 

"  But  we  shall  not  live  here  a  great  while?  You  will 
take  me  back  to  Virginia  soon,  won't  you  ?  "  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply,  with  a  sneering  smile. 
So  she  was  a  harmless  fool,  after  all.  He  had  begun 
to  fear  that  she  had  a  mind.  He  was  glad  to  find  that 
she  was  a  fool.  He  had  robbed  her  and  lied  to  her, 
and  here  she  was  looking  at  him  like  a  dove. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  with  something  of  his  old  man- 
ner, "  I  am  so  hounded  by  my  enemies  that  I  fear 
we  shall  have  to  live  quietly  on  my  little  island  there 
for  a  year  or  two.  I  have  many  troubles,  so  you  must 
forgive  me,  my  dear,  if  I  sometimes  act  and  speak  in  a 
way  that  hurts  your  tender  feelings." 

"  I  know  you  do  not  mean  to  be  unkind,"  replied  the 
girl  faintly. 

There  was  a  certain  excitement  in  this  play  that 
raised  her  spirits.  She  could  see  that  the  man  believed 
her  to  be  a  fool.  Ah,  he  should  learn,  some  day,  who 
was  the  fool! 

He  talked  to  her  as  to  a  child,  without  trying  to 
keep  the  sneering  amusement  which  he  felt  from  his 
voice  and  manner. 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  when  we  go  back  to  Virginia  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Your  friends  do  not  like  me;  and  I  am 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  217 

too  poor  a  man  to  live  in  one  of  those  fine  houses  and 
keep  up  a  fine  place?  " 

"  But  when  I  tell  everybody  how  kind  you  have 
been  to  me,  they  will  be  kind  to  you,"  replied  the  girl. 
"  And  if  you  are  poor,  you  can  have  my  money;  and 
Hopeland,  too,  when  I  marry." 

Alcazardo  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears.  He 
glanced  away  and  grinned  devilishly.  Why,  a  man 
could  do  anything  with  a  fool  like  this!  After  all,  he 
had  stolen  only  half  her  property;  and  old  Fairwood 
was  sure  to  die,  in  a  year  or  two,  of  overeating.  It  was 
worth  considering.  She  would  give  him  Hopeland, 
would  she? 

"  I  could  not  think  of  accepting  your  property, 
my  dear,"  he  said,  with  a  leer. 

"  But,  as  you  are  poor,  you  must,"  she  replied 
guilelessly.  "  I  shall  not  need  it.  But  please  tell  me 
why  you  are  not  known  by  your  real  name  on  this 
ship  and  on  the  island?  I  hope  you  have  not  done 
anything  wrong." 

This  was  just  the  kind  of  idiotic  question  Alcazardo 
was  expecting  from  the  simple  little  fool.  It  was 
interesting  —  almost  as  interesting  as  the  first  winning 
of  her  trust  in  Virginia.  But  never  until  now  had  he 
suspected  her  of  being  quite  so  stupid  and  trusting 
as  the  last  few  minutes  had  proved  her. 


218  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  said,  "  the  officers  of  the  law  are 
after  me  for  shooting  a  man.  It  happened  before  I 
ever  saw  you.  I  was  walking  along  a  quiet  street  in 
Madrid  one  day,  when  I  saw  a  man  attack  a  woman  and 
beat  her  with  a  stick.  I  was  so  overcome  with  rage 
that  I  drew  a  pistol  and  shot  him.  He  was  a  great 
man;  and  I  have  been  hunted  ever  since.  I  have  been 
afraid  to  tell  you  this,  my  dear  Isobel,  for  I  could  not 
bear  to  have  you  look  upon  me  as  a  murderer." 

"  I  think  it  was  very  noble  of  you,"  replied  the  girl, 
looking  at  him  with  wonder  in  her  eyes. 

But  the  wonder  was  at  the  ease  and  fertility  of  his 
imagination  and  the  depth  of  his  rascality. 

"  If  I  must  pretend  to  be  your  daughter,  I  must 
call  you  father,"  she  said. 

He  laughed  aloud,  and  patted  her  head  as  a  man  pats 
the  head  of  an  amusing  dog. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  he  said  in  a  nasty  but  merry 
vein.  "  Call  me  papa,  by  all  means.  I  am  proud  of 
my  lovely,  clever  daughter.  And  when  we  go  back  to 
Virginia,  what  a  stir  the  poor  old  don  will  make,  to 
be  sure,  with  his  beautiful  daughter  and  his  fine  son- 
in-law.  I  see  that  I  have  great  times  before  me." 

Isobel  retired  to  her  cabin  for  a  little  while.  She 
prayed  —  and  it  was  a  queer  prayer.  She  prayed  to 
be  forgiven  the  lies  which  she  had  spoken  and  acted, 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  219 

and  for  strength  and  cunning  to  tell  and  act  more 
lies. 

She  was  soon  on  deck  again,  standing  timidly  beside 
her  uncle  and  gazing  with  round  eyes  and  exclama- 
tions of  assumed  delight  at  the  white-and-green  island 
that  grew  so  swiftly  in  the  field  of  sparkling  blue. 

As  the  little  schooner  drew  near  the  eastern  coast, 
the  master  of  the  island  saw  a  small  group  of  men 
down  on  the  white  beach  between  the  lagoon  and  the 
fringe  of  cocoanut-trees.  One  was  waving  a  white 
flag  frantically  seaward.  Through  his  telescope  the 
proprietor  could  see  that  the  others  of  the  group  were 
facing  landward  and  held  muskets  in  their  hands.  His 
black  eyes  fairly  glistened  with  rage.  He  called  the 
master  of  the  schooner  to  him. 

"  I  have  been  away  from  my  darlings  too  long  this 
trip,"  he  said.  "  See,  they  have  driven  their  drivers 
almost  into  the  lagoon.  Clear  the  bow-gun  and  load 
her  with  canister,  and  we'll  let  them  know  that  the 
don  has  come  home  again." 

He  smiled  as  he  spoke,  but  it  was  a  smile  to  chill  a 
man's  blood.  The  big  gun  in  the  schooner's  bow  was 
stripped  of  her  canvas  jacket,  loaded,  and  run  forward 
in  double  time.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  rough, 
masterless-looking  fellows  were  in  fear  of  Alcazardo. 

He  stepped  close  to  one  of  them  —  a  huge,  blond 


220  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

fellow  with  the  devil's  mark  on  his  face  and  a  body  like 
a  gladiator's  —  and  the  fellow  shrank  aside  with  a  little 
gasp  of  fear.  The  do-n  had  his  children  well  in  hand. 

Now  the  schooner  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
the  mouth  of  the  gap  in  the  reef  opening  into  the 
lagoon.  She  moved  slowly  and  steadily  forward 
under  her  main-jib.  From  her  deck  a  mob  of  blacks 
and  ragged,  brick-red  whites  could  be  seen  among  the 
gray  stems  of  the  cocoanut-trees.  They  were  armed 
with  hoes  and  cane-knives.  They  shouted  mad, 
wordless  threats  at  the  half-dozen  fellows  on  the  beach, 
and  even  at  the  schooner. 

The  schooner  drifted  through  the  gap.  Alcazardo 
sighted  the  long  cannon.  At  the  glow  of  the  red  spark 
of  the  linstock,  the  men  on  the  sand  ran  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  water  and  threw  themselves  flat.  The 
poor  maddened  fools  beyond  dashed  out  into  open 
sight.  Then  the  cannon  belched  and  roared  across 
the  still  waters  of  the  lagoon. 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  slaves  fell  and  twisted  on  the 
white  sand.  The  others  turned  and  fled,  their  cries  of 
anger  thinned  to  screams  of  fear. 

One  of  the  overseers  scrambled  to  his  feet,  screamed, 
and  fell  forward  into  the  water.  Alcazardo  smiled, 
took  the  burning  linstock  from  the  gunner  and  touched 
it  to  the  tip  of  a  slender  roll  of  paper  and  tobacco 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature 


which  he  held  between  his  lips.  In  returning  it,  he 
struck  the  flame  against  the  gunner's  wrist.  The 
fellow  did  not  flinch,  but  a  horrid  film  of  terror  dimmed 
his  eyes. 

"  That  was  a  good  shot,"  said  the  master  of  the 
island.  "  Now  they  know  that  the  don  is  home  again 
and  the  days  of  love  and  peace  returned." 

Isobel  had  gone  to  her  cabin,  white  of  face  and 
convulsed  with  sobs,  the  moment  after  the  firing  of 
the  cannon.  Maria  followed  her.  Isobel  turned  and 
threw  her  arms  around  the  other's  neck. 

"  To  think,"  she  cried,  "  he  murders,  and  smiles! 
Oh,  Maria,  we  have  come  to  hell  itself!  May  I  have 
strength  to  look  him  in  the  eyes  —  to  blind  him  — 
to  befool  him.  He  shoots  down  his  labourers  as  one 
would  shoot  quail!" 

The  Spanish  maid  was  frightened,  and  did  her  best 
to  quiet  her  mistress. 

"  But  they  had  knives  in  their  hands,"  she  said. 
"  They  were  terrible.  They  were  like  beasts.  The 
senor  had  to  fire  upon  them,  to  save  the  poor  men  on 
the  sand." 

"  Yes,  Maria,  you  are  right  and  —  I  am  very  foolish," 
replied  the  lady,  in  low,  hard  tones.  "  The  beasts 
were  ready  to  kill  their  loving  master.  How  he  must 
grieve  at  having  killed  one  of  his  overseers." 


222  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

They  heard  the  cable  roar  over  the  iron  lip  of  the 
hawse-hole,  and  the  splash  of  the  anchor  in  the 
lagoon. 

Isobel  dried  her  eyes,  forced  a  smile  to  her  lips, 
and  returned  to  the  deck.  The  maid  followed  her. 

The  schooner  was  at  rest  on  the  crystal  water, 
midway  between  the  reef  and  the  beach  of  powdered 
coral.  Already  a  boat  was  pulling  away  from  her, 
with  Alcazardo  in  the  stern-sheets.  The  master  of 
the  little  craft  stepped  up  to  Isobel  with  a  respectful 
salutation. 

"  The  don  has  gone  ashore  to  set  things  right  for 
your  arrival,  senorita,"  he  said.  "  He  will  return  for 
you  in  a  few  minutes." 

Isobel  eyed  him  steadily.  "  Have  you  been  long  in 
the  service  of  —  of  my  father?"  she  asked,  speaking 
very  quietly. 

The  mariner  shifted  from  one  mahogany- hued  foot 
to  the  other,  and  gazed  landward.  "  For  a  matter  of 
two  years,  maybe,"  he  said. 

"  What  is  this  vessel  used  for?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  For  trading  among  the  islands.  But  see,  the  don 
is  looking  back  at  us,"  replied  the  fellow  nervously. 
"  I'd  better  get  along  with  my  work." 

The  don,  as  everybody  called  Alcazardo  on  the 
schooner,  soon  returned  for  Isobel,  Maria,  and  his  own 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  223 

and  their  baggage.  He  seemed  in  high  spirits,  as 
if  the  little  matter  of  the  charge  of  canister  had  cheered 
him. 

He  helped  Isobel  over  the  rail  and  into  the  boat 
with  a  fine  air.  He  lifted  Maria  down  bodily  —  and 
Maria  blushed  and  flashed  her  black  eyes  at  him. 

The  boat  was  beached  near  the  spot  where  the 
overseer  had  fallen.  The  body  had  been  carried  away, 
but  there  was  still  a  dabble  of  blood  on  the  sand. 
Further  up  the  shore  two  slaves  were  lifting  the  last 
remaining  body  of  their  murdered  comrades  —  and 
these  were  two  of  the  same  who  had  brandished  their 
cane-knives  so  defiantly  only  a  few  minutes  before. 

A  narrow  path  led  through  the  grove  of  cocoanut- 
trees.  The  underbrush  on  either  hand,  between  the 
smooth,  gray  stems,  was  of  white  wood  and  manchineel. 
The  pale- brown  soil  was  full  of  holes  into  which  great 
land-crabs  scuttled  and  turned,  ready  to  scuttle  out 
again. 

From  the  landward  edge  of  the  grove  Isobel  had 
her  first  sight  of  the  house  —  a  full  view  of  it  all  in  a 
flash,  looking  like  a  picture  in  a  book.  It  stood  on  a 
gentle  rise  of  land,  pink-walled,  pink-roofed,  with 
wide,  low  eaves  and  deep  galleries.  In  front,  a  dozen 
cabbage-palms  lifted  their  rustling  crests  high  in  the 
sweep  of  the  trades;  the  long  leaves  springing  with 


224  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

almost  artificial  regularity  from  the  green,  jade-like 
stem  that  topped  the  gray  pillar  of  the  trunk. 

At  one  side  stood  the  squat  tower  of  the  windmill 
in  which  the  canes  were  crushed,  and  a  cluster  of 
stables  and  outhouses;  and  between  these  and  the 
house  a  walled  garden,  with  bright,  strange  foliage 
gleaming  above  the  walls. 

On  the  other  side  stood  a  fine  grove  of  mahogany- 
trees;  and  everywhere  gleamed  the  tender  green  of 
sugar-canes  and  the  banner-like  leaves  of  bananas 
and  plantains.  A  mile  away,  in  the  centre  of  the 
island,  arose  two  moderate,  rounded  hills  shrouded  in 
dark  foliage.  Overhead  swam  a  cloudless  sky  of  palest 
azure. 

The  first  few  days  of  IsobePs  stay  on  the  little 
island  of  Madiana,  of  which  the  don  was  sole  pro- 
prietor and  the  only  settler,  passed  quietly.  The  house 
was  large  and  comfortable,  and  through  the  windows 
and  doors  and  along  the  galleries  the  wind  drove 
steadily  all  day  and  all  night. 

Alcazardo  was  busy  with  affairs  of  the  plantation; 
and  those  affairs  seemed  far  away  from  the  cool  and 
quiet  house.  No  smothered  curses,  cries  of  pain,  or 
sound  of  blows  reached  the  garden  or  the  peaceful 
rooms. 

For  three  days  Isobel  saw  her  uncle  only  during 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature          225 

meals,  and  he  was  sneeringly  agreeable  and  a  shade 
preoccupied.  He  spoke  only  of  the  most  unimportant 
matters,  and  did  not  mention  the  dastardly  deed  by 
which  he  had  announced  his  arrival  to  his  slaves. 
Isobel  had  seen,  on  that  first  day,  that  several  of  these 
poor  creatures  were  whites;  but  she  did  not  dare, 
just  then,  to  question  Alcazardo  on  the  point. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day,  after  the  sudden, 
purple  night  had  fallen,  Isobel  happened  upon  her 
uncle  and  Maria  talking  earnestly  together  on  the 
front  steps  of  the  gallery.  The  don  came  straight  to 
Isobel,  took  her  hand  and  drew  her  aside. 

"  Maria  says  that  she  wants  to  return  to  Spain," 
he  said,  in  a  voice  sufficiently  loud  for  the  maid  to 
hear.  "  I  have  been  telling  her  that  she  cannot  go 
home  for  some  months  —  in  fact,  that  she  shall  be 
taken  to  Virginia  before  she  ever  sees  Spain  again. 
I  consider  this  very  unkind  of  the  girl,  and  I  have  told 
her  so.  You  are  a  good  mistress  and  a  good  friend  to 
her.  And  she  is  well  paid.  I  cannot  understand  what 
more  she  wants." 

Isobel  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this  rigmarole.  But 
she  pretended  to  believe  every  word  of  it.  "  Oh,  she 
does  not  mean  it.  Surely  she  does  not  mean  to  leave 
me!  "  she  cried. 

Maria  slipped  into  the  house  without  a  word.    Al- 


226  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

cazardo  told  his  ward  to  take  heart,  for  the  girl  could 
not  leave  her,  however  much  she  might  want  to. 

Isobel  pretended  to  take  comfort  from  this  assurance. 
"  I  must  beg  her  not  to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  she 
murmured,  and  ran  into  the  house  and  up  to  the  room 
which  she  shared  with  Maria. 

She  found  the  Spanish  girl  there  sitting  idly  on 
the  edge  of  her  cot.  She  went  to  her,  knelt  before  her 
and  took  both  her  hands  in  hers. 

"  Maria,  tell  me  what  you  and  the  senor  were  talking 
about,"  she  pleaded. 

"I  told  him  that  it  was  my  desire  to  return  im- 
mediately to  Spain,"  replied  the  maid  in  a  small  voice. 

"  Maria,  you  are  not  telling  me  the  truth,"  said 
Isobel,  accusingly.  "  You  are  repeating  something 
that  he  has  told  you  to  say.  I  know  it  by  your  voice, 
even  as  I  heard  the  lie  hi  his.  Have  you,  too,  turned 
against  me,  Maria?" 

The  maid  began  to  cry.  "  I  have  not  turned  against 
you,"  she  sobbed.  "  But  I  fear  the  senor  —  and  he 
treats  me  very  kindly.  I  am  but  a  poor  servant-maid. 
I  am  not  good  and  clever  like  you,  Dona  Isobel. 
You  need  not  fear  him,  for  you  are  a  great  lady,  and 
rich,  and  he  will  treasure  you  for  what  you  may  do 
for  him  in  the  future.  Oh,  I  see  that.  But  who  am 
I  to  dare  to  anger  him?  And  yet  he  treats  me  very 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  227 

kindly  and  —  and  I  cannot  tell  you  what  he  said  to 
me." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,"  returned  Isobel.  "  Have 
you  no  spirit  ?  Here  is  a  knife  —  see,  it  is  sharp  as 
flame!  I  carry  it  always.  Take  it,  Maria!  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  want  it!  "  cried  the  maid.  "  I  am 
neither  a  great  lady  nor  a  fool.  Life  is  good.  If  he 
loves  me,  why  should  I  kill  myself  ?  " 

"  Poor  creature.  Poor  little  Maria,"  whispered  her 
mistress ;  and  she  kissed  her  and  wept  over  her. 

Next  morning  Alcazardo  said:  "  I  have  decided  to 
let  the  girl  go  back  to  Spain,  after  all.  Her  heart  is 
set  on  it;  and  I  can  find  you  a  very  good  servant 
among  the  slave  women.  The  schooner  leaves  at 
noon." 

Isobel  had  not  the  heart  to  make  any  answer.  She 
went  to  her  room;  and  soon  Maria  came,  kissed  her 
passionately,  wet  her  face  with  tears,  and  went  away. 

Isobel  saw  that  the  maid's  eyes  and  cheeks  were 
aglow ;  and  she  was  silent  under  the  wonder  and  horror 
of  it.  An  hour  later,  she  watched  the  little  schooner 
sail  out  of  the  lagoon;  and  she  knew  that  it  was  not 
bound  for  Spain,  and  that  Maria  was  not  on  board. 

Two  months  later,  Isobel  learned  of  Maria's  death 
at  the  hands  of  a  jealous  mulatto  woman. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  ICE-FLOE 

AFTER  her  engagement  with  the  schooner  of  the 
notorious  Black  Monk,  the  Royal  Company's  brig 
completed  her  westward  voyage  without  further  dis- 
turbance. 

Drurie  divided  the  treasure  of  the  pirate  among  his 
officers  and  crew,  every  man  being  served  according 
to  his  rating.  The  provisions  from  the  schooner's 
lazaretto  were  not  reckoned  or  divided,  but  went  to 
the  brig's  credit,  in  bulk,  and  added  much  to  the 
flavour  of  the  meals  in  both  cabin  and  forecastle. 

They  found  the  fort  in  a  sorry  state,  only  partially 
recovered  from  the  distress  of  the  long  whiter.  They 
were  received  with  a  salute  of  cannon,  feeble  but  well- 
intentioned  cheering,  and  the  capering  of  thin,  be- 
whiskered  men  along  the  edge  of  the  tide. 

MacAllister,  the  commander  of  the  fort,  put  off 
from  shore  in  an  Indian  canoe,  and  was  on  the  brig's 
deck  before  the  anchors  were  let  go.  He  was  a  man 
of  thirty-five  years  of  age,  capable,  quick-tempered, 

228 


The  Ice-floe  229 

proud  as  Lucifer,  and  poor  as  the  soil  on  his  native 
hills.  He  claimed  descent  from  Adam,  King  Arthur, 
St.  Andrew,  and  the  prophets,  and  was  in  the  habit  of 
telling  his  friends  that  the  tree  of  knowledge  still  grew 
and  bore  fruit  on  his  father's  estate  in  the  Highlands 
of  Scotland. 

He  was  full  of  oaths  and  mad  moods  and  the  grandest 
lies  concerning  the  power  and  antiquity  of  his  family; 
but  when  he  gave  his  word  to  a  friend  or  an  enemy 
the  thing  was  already  as  good  as  done.  He  had  seen 
military  service  hi  almost  every  country  of  Europe, 
had  gone  into  Asia  against  the  Turks,  and  had  spent 
a  year  of  his  life  pulling  an  oar  in  a  Turkish  galley. 
It  was  the  opinion  of  his  friends  that  his  experiences 
in  Turkey  had  put  a  twist  in  his  brain. 

He  liked  Francis  Drurie  —  and  his  likes  were  as 
violent  as  his  dislikes.  The  moment  his  feet  touched 
the  brig's  deck  he  grabbed  the  commander  in  his  long 
arms  and  pressed  him  to  the  breast  of  his  faded  coat 
with  such  abandonment  of  cordiality  as  almost  to 
crack  the  Virginian's  ribs. 

"Welcome  to  Fort  St.  George  and  St.  Andrew," 
he  cried,  his  gray  eyes  flashing.  "  You  are  welcomer, 
Frank,  than  the  King  of  England,  for  you  are  a  better 
man!" 

Then  he  told  his  troubles  of  the  past  winter;   how 


230  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

his  lieutenant  had  died  of  scurvy,  and  his  chief  car- 
penter, his  smith,  and  three  labourers  had  followed 
along  the  same  grim  path  within  the  week;  how  two 
men  had  been  killed  by  savages,  another  lost  in  the 
wilderness,  and  three  caught  by  a  storm  of  wind  and 
snow,  while  hunting,  and  frozen  to  death.  It  was  a 
pitiful  tale. 

"  And  I  expect  the  French  to  move  against  us  before 
the  summer  is  over.  No  doubt  the  savages  have 
carried  word  of  us  to  them  long  before  this,"  he  con- 
cluded. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  Brave  Adventure  were  soon 
ashore,  and  most  of  the  crew  followed  the  moment 
the  sails  were  furled  and  everything  was  made  fast 
and  shipshape.  The  stores  for  the  fort  were  hurried 
out  of  the  brig's  hold,  a  small  measure  of  rum  was 
served  to  all  hands,  and  MacAllister  announced  that 
to  celebrate  the  arrival  of  the  first  vessel  of  the  fleet, 
a  feast  and  general  merrymaking  would  be  held  as 
soon  as  the  day's  work  was  over.  This  was  received 
with  cheers  by  landsmen  and  sailors  alike. 

Then  Drurie  mounted  the  cask  of  salt  beside  the 
commander  of  the  fort  and  said  that  he  intended  to 
devote  his  share  of  the  treasure  taken  from  the  pirate- 
schooner  to  prizes  for  contests  in  marksmanship  with 
musket  and  pistol,  in  sword-play,  in  felling  trees  with 


The  Ice-floe  231 

axes,  and  in  many  more  sports  and  works.  There 
should  be  separate  contests  in  every  event,  he  ex- 
plained, for  the  sailors  and  the  men  of  the  fort,  as  the 
landsmen  had  suffered  from  lack  of  food. 

The  men  shouted  and  danced  with  delight,  and  even 
the  gentlemen  cheered  Drurie's  generosity.  But  the 
commander  of  the  brig  took  small  joy  of  the  ovation; 
for,  ever  since  the  fight  with  the  schooner,  every  hour 
was  haunted  by  the  little  cross  in  his  pocket. 

Was  it  the  cross  Isobel  had  worn  on  her  white  neck  ? 
Or,  was  it  one  of  many  crosses  as  like  it  as  two  musket- 
balls  are  alike?  He  did  not  know.  Sometimes  he 
was  sure  of  the  one  thing,  and  sometimes  of  the  other. 

The  feast  was  a  success  and  put  new  heart  into  the 
settlers.  A  score  of  friendly  natives  shared  the  great 
company's  bounty,  and  joined  in  the  dancing  that 
followed  the  eating,  and  sat  like  graven  images  through 
the  singing  and  story-telling.  Captain  MacAllister 
danced  the  sword-dance,  Francis  and  Prowse  sang, 
and  Cremona  gave  an  exhibition  of  knife-throwing. 
Dawn  was  in  the  east  before  the  little  fort  was  quiet 
and  the  ashes  of  the  fires  were  black. 

Under  the  stimulus  of  full  rations  and  excitement, 
the  fort  seemed  to  gain  new  life.  Work  and  play  went 
on,  side  by  side.  Clearings  were  extended  into  the 
forest  on  every  side  of  the  fort  as  a  precaution  against 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


sudden  attack  by  Frenchmen  or  natives.  The  stockade 
was  enlarged  and  strengthened,  a  new  house  was  built 
for  MacAllister,  and  all  the  cabins  were  repaired.  A 
brisk  trade  was  carried  on  with  the  natives  from  near 
and  far;  small  parties  explored  the  forests  and  the 
coast,  and  fish  were  caught  in  the  sea  and  the  rivers 
and  smoked  for  winter  use.  The  contests  in  sports 
and  workmanship  were  warmly  engaged  in  and  oc- 
cupied the  men's  spare  time  for  fully  a  month.  The 
summer  was  short;  and  at  the  first  hint  of  the  quick 
frosts  the  hunters  set  out  after  moose  and  caribou. 

The  crews  of  the  three  ships  joined  them  in  this 
work  and  in  the  gathering  of  wild  berries;  and  after- 
ward in  the  manufacture  of  pemmican  from  the  meat 
and  berries.  By  this  time,  the  commanders  and  masters 
of  the  ships  were  beginning  to  feel  uneasy.  The  cargoes 
of  pelts  were  put  under  hatches;  and  early  on  the 
morning  that  the  first  thin  shell  of  ice  was  found  on 
the  ponds  around  the  fort,  two  of  the  vessels  sailed 
away.  Francis  had  to  remain  three  days  longer,  waiting 
for  Dick  and  several  members  of  his  crew  who  were 
down  the  coast  in  the  brig's  long-boat.  But  at  last 
the  capstan-bars  were  manned  aboard  the  Brave 
Adventure,  the  anchors  walked  up  and  lashed,  and  the 
square  sails  unfurled. 

Whiter  comes  swiftly  to  that  northern  sea.     For  a 


The  Ice-floe 


little  while  the  sun  has  held  back  the  merciless  desire 
of  the  frost,  and  the  silence;  leaves  have  budded  and 
blown,  butterflies  have  spread  their  painted  wings; 
and  then,  as  if  the  forces  of  death  had  been  waiting 
just  behind  the  hills,  desolation  returns  to  wood  and 
stream. 

Out  on  the  sea  the  brief,  azure  days  are  done.  Clouds 
mount  from  the  hidden  pits  of  storm;  fogs  and  snow 
trail  their  shrouds  across  the  shaken  waves;  the  voice 
of  the  surf  fails  along  the  gray  coasts,  silenced  by  the 
black  strip  of  ice  that  widens  hour  by  hour.  Snow  falls, 
and  the  land  and  the  ice  are  as  one;  then  the  winds 
and  currents  struggle  in  those  nameless  wastes  and  the 
new  ice  is  broken  and  tossed  adrift.  The  surf  shouts 
again  along  the  rocks  —  but  in  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
in  a  falling  silence,  again  the  frost  shackles  the  living 
water. 

The  Brave  Adventure  raced  for  the  open  sea,  striving 
to  clear  the  narrow  straits  before  the  frost  should  close 
its  hand  upon  the  north.  She  drove  eastward  and 
northward  across  the  great  bay,  under  every  yard  of 
canvas  she  could  spread.  Hour  by  hour  the  appalling 
shadow  of  winter  —  a  shadow  seen  with  the  eyes  of 
the  spirit  —  loomed  higher  above  the  northern  hori- 
zon. 

The  men  felt  it.    On  deck  and  aloft  it  cut  deep  into 


234  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

their  courage,  though  the  cold  was  not  yet  severe; 
in  the  warmth  of  cabin  and  forecastle  it  rang  a  faint, 
strange  echo  to  their  laughter.  It  was  not  the  cold 
they  feared,  but  the  blind,  gripping  ice. 

"  We  must  drive  her,"  said  the  master  to  Drurie. 
"  So  long  as  this  wind  holds  we  are  safe.  If  we  get 
half-way  through  the  straits  before  it  shifts  to  the 
north  we  can  beat  the  ice  to  the  sea." 

The  wind  failed  —  then  blew  fitfully  from  the 
south.  On  a  warm,  bright  morning  they  rounded  into 
the  narrow  seaway,  and  crept  forward  east  by  south. 
The  sunlight,  and  the  knowledge  that  this  was  the 
course  that  reached  to  England,  raised  the  spirits  of 
all  save  the  more  experienced  mariners. 

Danvers  did  not  like  it,  and  watched  the  sea  and  the 
sky  at  every  point  of  the  compass  as  if  he  expected 
an  attack.  He  kept  the  brig  well  up  toward  the  dreary, 
frozen  coast  to  the  north  —  so  close  that  it  could  be 
seen  with  the  naked  eye,  like  a  bank  of  pale  fog  along 
the  horizon.  The  day  passed  comfortably,  but  with 
little  progress.  With  the  setting  of  the  sun  the  wind 
died  away,  and  a  sudden  chill  flooded  the  air. 

In  the  outer  cabin  the  gentlemen  sat  around  the 
the  table,  or  lay  in  their  berths  and  listened  to  the  talk 
of  their  comrades  and  the  weird  complaining  of  the 
ship's  timbers.  Not  one  of  them  save  Cremona 


The  Ice-floe  235 

seemed  to  be  able  to  keep  his  mind  on  any  subject  for 
more  than  a  minute  at  a  time.  They  listened  for  some- 
thing they  could  not  name  —  listened  with  half- 
turned  heads,  furtively.  They  felt  a  menace  they  did 
not  understand.  They  feared  neither  storm  nor  battle; 
but  the  fear  of  the  North  was  in  their  hearts.  They 
listened  for  the  strong,  enlivening  buffet  of  the  wind; 
and,  not  hearing  it,  they  felt  an  anxiety  that  they 
scarcely  tried  to  conceal. 

But  Cremona  was  himself  —  outwardly,  at  least. 
He  sat  at  the  table  with  a  bottle  of  wine  before  him 
and  told  a  story  that  nobody  listened  to.  It  was  a 
fine  story,  too,  and  as  full  of  lies  as  any  history.  To 
catch  young  Prowse's  wandering  attention,  he  leaned 
across  the  table  and  poked  him  in  the  shoulder  with 
one  of  his  great  fingers. 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that  the  French  lady  turned 
as  white  as  that  candle,  and  fell,  herself,  quick  into 
my  arms,  and  cried  loud  for  me  to  save  her  valued  life. 
And  what  did  I  do  —  can  you  think  ?  I  knocked  her 
softly  out  of  my  course,  with  a  polite  word,  and  struck 
those  two  pirates  with  my  might.  One  of  those  vile 
fellows  drove  a  knife  —  " 

"Hark!  What  was  that?"  whispered  Prowse, 
brushing  away  Cremona's  finger  and  half  rising  from 
his  seat. 


236  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Bah!  You  hear  your  brains  shake.  Now  listen 
to  me,"  said  Cremona. 

Prowse  paid  no  attention  to  him.  "  What  is  Drurie 
doing  on  deck?  Why  does  he  stay  up  hi  the  cold? 
Danvers  can  sail  the  ship  without  his  help." 

"  Now,  you  listen  to  me,"  drawled  Cremona,  and 
went  on  with  the  yarn  to  which  nobody  would  listen. 

And  they  thought  he  was  acting  like  a  fool ;  whereas 
he  was  doing  his  best  to  turn  their  minds  from  the 
menace  in  the  air. 

Neither  Drurie  nor  Danvers  left  the  deck  that  night. 
Shortly  after  midnight  a  puff  of  wind  struck  the  brig 
and  fled,  leaving  the  spars  creaking  and  the  shrouds 
rattling.  She  had  scarcely  settled  to  quiet  after  that 
buffet  when  the  wind  descended  upon  her  in  earnest 
out  of  the  west. 

It  blew  steady  and  strong,  bowling  her  along  under 
scanty  sails.  The  seas  arose  as  if  by  magic,  pitching 
the  little  vessel  dizzily  as  the  wind  raced  her  along. 
The  commander  and  the  master  stood  close  together 
by  the  tiller.  The  night  was  so  black  that  they  could 
not  see  each  other's  face. 

"  Is  this  what  you  expected  ?  "  asked  Drurie,  after 
the  wind  had  been  upon  them  for  several  minutes. 

"It  is  better  than  I  expected,"  replied  Danvers. 
"  I  feared  a  gale  —  and  from  the  north." 


The  Ice-floe  237 

Half  an  hour  later  Danvers  spoke  again.  "  It  will 
blow  stronger,"  he  said.  "  There  is  a  core  to  it.  I 
felt  it  all  day,  and  now  I  hear  it." 

A  gray,  ragged  rift  of  dawn  was  breaking  in  front  of 
their  pitching  jibboom  when  the  thing  which  the  master 
was  watching  for  finally  reached  them.  That  the 
immense  draft  of  wind  which  had  been  pressing  them 
along  for  the  last  eight  hours  could  increase  in  either 
weight  or  speed  was  a  miracle  to  Drurie. 

It  fell  upon  them  as  solid  as  water,  crushing  the 
stout  little  hull  deep  into  the  eager  sea,  and  then  hurling 
her  on  her  course  like  a  plaything.  Drurie  was  spun 
against  the  after-companion.  He  lay  there  for  a 
minute,  gripping  at  whatever  he  touched  with  hands 
and  feet. 

Danvers  stooped  and  roared  into  his  ear :  "  She'll 
weather  it.  She  be  too  quick  for  the  seas  to  override 
her.  'Twill  blow  itself  out  in  an  hour  or  two." 

Drurie  pulled  himself  to  his  feet  and  stood,  clinging 
to  the  hutch  of  the  companion,  until  the  terror  of  this 
madness  of  wind  and  wave  lifted  from  his  spirit. 
He,  too,  had  felt  the  nameless  fear  of  the  North.  Then 
he  went  below. 

As  Danvers  had  said,  the  storm  eased  its  fury  within 
two  hours  of  its  supreme  effort;  but  it  continued  to 
blow  at  half  a  gale  until  noon.  Every  member  of  the 


238  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

brig's  company  felt  a  relaxing  of  strained  nerves. 
Men  whistled  at  their  work,  and  the  watch  below, 
instead  of  sleeping,  clustered  about  the  break  of  the 
forecastle-head  and  sang  madrigals  and  deep-sea 
chanties. 

The  adventurers  aft  lolled  in  the  pale  sunlight; 
and  Cremona,  feeling  no  need  for  his  story,  smoked  a 
roll  of  tobacco  and  gave  ear  to  Prowse's  chatter  about 
a  girl  in  distant  Devon.  Drurie  and  the  master  went 
below  and  sank  to  dreamless  slumber. 

In  the  afternoon  the  brig  passed  a  number  of  islands 
of  naked  rock,  pink  and  purple  hi  the  failing  light.  An 
easy  draft  of  wind  drifted  out  of  the  north,  and  intense 
cold  filled  the  air.  The  first  mate,  who  was  on  duty, 
made  all  sail,  eager  to  clear  the  Cape  of  God  and  win 
into  the  wide  Atlantic  before  the  ice  should  close  the 
eastern  gate  of  the  passage.  The  men  who  had  the 
deck  put  on  their  heaviest  clothing,  and  great  mittens 
of  wool  on  their  hands. 

Next  morning  a  thin  edge  of  ice,  about  six  inches 
wide,  lay  around  the  water-line  of  the  brig.  The  wind 
still  held  from  the  north,  quiet  and  steady  as  a  current 
of  icy  water.  The  sea  rolled  gently,  without  a  break 
of  whitej,  and  the  brig  swept  smoothly  and  silently 
along.  Cape  of  God  loomed  ahead,  crouched  forward 
as  if  ready  to  hurl  itself  into  the  path  of  the  little  vessel. 


The  Ice-floe  239 

The  crew  was  set  to  breaking  away  the  fringe  of  ice 
with  poles  and  oars.  The  thin  crystal  shattered  and 
vanished  at  a  touch;  and  yet,  grown  a  little  thicker, 
it  would  support  a  running  man,  and  a  little  thicker 
again  it  would  stop  the  onward  rush  of  a  forging 
ship. 

By  sunset  the  Brave  Adventure  was  abreast  of  the 
soaring  cape.  Danvers  held  her  well  up  to  the  wind, 
away  from  the  formidable  wall  and  its  hidden  out- 
posts, where  white  spray  leaped  from  the  smooth 
sea. 

Before  dawn  a  flurry  of  snow  passed  over  the  brig. 
This  was  followed  by  a  fog,  that  only  whitened  a  little 
as  the  hours  passed.  The  gentlemen  were  at  breakfast, 
with  candles  on  the  table  and  a  lantern  hanging  steady 
from  the  deck-beam  overhead,  when  Danvers  entered 
the  cabin,  threw  aside  his  cloak,  and  sat  down. 

"  We  are  in  the  edge  of  slob  ice,"  he  said.  "  But 
it  does  not  matter  now.  Even  if  it  tightens  around  us, 
it  is  clear  of  any  land,  and  will  do  no  more  than  drift 
us  southward  a  trifle.  As  we  are  well  away  from  the 
coast  of  Labrador,  that  will  do  no  harm." 

"  Heaven  be  thanked  for  letting  us  out  of  the  narrow 
waters,"  said  Drurie. 

"  Aye,  praise  be  to  His  name,"  returned  Danvers 
reverently.  Then  he  ate  heartily,  drank  deep,  and 


240  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

laughed  and  talked  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  felt 
a  great  shadow  slip  from  his  spirit. 

All  day  the  fog  shrouded  them;  the  sails  swelled 
for  a  moment  from  yard  and  stay  only  to  flap  and  sag 
again;  the  thin  fragments  of  ice,  broken  from  some 
northern  coast,  knocked  against  the  brig's  sides  and 
clung.  In  spite  of  the  gloom,  a  spirit  of  serenity  and 
security  hung  over  the  little  vessel,  soothing  the  hearts 
of  her  company. 

Clear  of  threatening  rocks  and  the  northern  fast- 
nesses, with  the  wide  ocean  on  every  side,  what  mattered 
a  few  days  of  southward  drifting  in  the  mild  bondage 
of  this  thin  ice  ?  The  gentlemen  played  at  cards  in  the 
warm,  candle-lighted  cabin;  and  even  Drurie  and 
Danvers  felt  free  to  take  an  occasional  hand.  And  so 
the  day  passed,  and  the  fog  darkened  from  white  to 
black  again. 

That  night,  a  wonderful  dream  came  to  Francis 
Drurie.  It  was  as  if  he  opened  his  eyes  from  a  deep 
sleep  and  looked  between  the  curtains  of  his  berth 
into  his  cabin.  By  the  faint  light  of  the  lantern, 
hanging  over  the  table,  he  saw  a  human  figure  standing, 
silent  and  dim  as  a  shadow.  Now,  this  inner  cabin 
was  his  own,  and  even  the  master  entered  it  only  by 
his  invitation. 

He  leaned  upon  his  elbow  and  stared  out,  wondering 


The  Ice-floe  241 

if  one  of  his  gentlemen  had  come  to  speak  to  him. 
But  he  could  not  make  the  figure  out. 

"  Who  is  there?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  the  figure  moved 
toward  him.  It  was  a  woman!  It  was  Isobel! 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  the  dear  voice,  of  which  not  a 
tone  had  faded  from  his  heart.  "  I  have  come,  in  my 
dream,  to  tell  you  that  I  still  live  and  wait  for  you. 
The  path  to  me,  dearest,  is  one  of  duty  well  done,  and 
bitter  sufferings,  and  hoping  against  hope." 

And  then,  hi  the  silence  that  followed,  the  vision 
of  the  girl  faded  away.  Drurie  could  not  move  or  call 
her  name.  He  struggled  to  get  out  of  his  berth,  but 
it  seemed  that  invisible  barriers  held  him.  At  last, 
in  the  agony  of  his  futile  efforts,  he  opened  his  eyes. 
So  —  it  was  only  a  dream,  after  all.  But  what  a 
dream!  To  Drurie,  the  hand  of  God  was  in  it.  He 
was  not  a  man  of  prayer,  but  God  was  a  very  real 
Being  to  him.  He  slipped  from  his  berth  and  thanked 
God  on  bended  knees.  The  knowledge  that  bitter 
sufferings  were  to  be  his  dimmed  neither  his  gratitude 
nor  his  joy. 

By  morning  the  brig  was  firm  in  the  grip  of  the 
drifting  floe.  Fog  still  shrouded  the  sea.  Drurie's 
comrades  saw  the  new  light  in  his  eyes,  and  wondered 
if  he  had  suddenly  forgotten  his  grief.  He  told  of  his 


242  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

dream  to  Dick  and  Cremona,  and  both  accepted  the 
meaning  of  it  without  question.  They  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  believing  it  to  be  a  message,  and  so  they 
rejoiced  with  their  commander. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DENIS   ST.   OVIDE  DUVAL 

IT  happened  that  a  famous  Canadian,  known  by  the 
style  and  name  of  Captain  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval, 
encountered  the  same  fog-bank  and  the  same  ice-floe 
in  which  the  Brave  Adventure  drifted  blindly. 

Duval  was  one  of  England's  most  exasperating 
tormentors  in  the  north,  from  New  England  to  Acadia 
and  Newfoundland.  In  time  of  war  he  was  a  privateer, 
and  in  time  of  peace  a  pirate.  English  commerce  was 
always  his  target.  His  delight  was  to  strike  a  blow  at 
the  power  of  that  lion-hearted  little  island,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  fill  his  pockets  with  such  treasure  as  the 
moth  of  pleasure  and  the  rust  of  sea- winds  destroy. 

He  was  a  strange  mixture  of  soldier  and  ruffian, 
gentleman  and  knave.  There  was  some  mystery  about 
his  birth.  He  claimed  kinship  with  several  great 
families;  but,  whether  because  of  his  naval  activities 
in  times  of  peace  or  for  another  reason,  he  was  avoided 
by  the  members  of  these  same  families.  It  was  a 
well-known  fact  that  the  Admiral  St.  Ovide  would 

248 


244  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

never  invite  him  to  so  much  as  a  glass  of  wine;  and 
yet  the  two  had  fought  their  ships  side  by  side  against 
the  forts  of  the  harbour  of  St.  John's.  He  was  a 
strange  fellow  —  a  strange  mixture.  Those  who 
wished  to  see  only  the  bad  blood  hi  him  could  not 
ignore  the  good ;  and  those  who  wished  to  see  only  the 
good  were  reminded,  very  frequently,  of  the  bad.  But 
whatever  his  faults  in  heart  and  breeding,  he  was  a 
brave  and  brilliant  commander  and  a  capable  navi- 
gator. 

Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  had  heard  of  the  new  English 
post  hi  the  northern  wilderness  from  a  French  trapper, 
and  he  had  put  a  fine  plan  together.  He  would  slip 
into  that  northern  sea  just  as  the  armed  ships  of  the 
Royal  Company  slipped  out,  and  take  the  fort,  and 
settle  there  comfortably  for  the  winter.  By  spring 
he  should  have  valuable  cargoes  for  his  two  vessels 
and  prisoners  for  Quebec,  to  say  nothing  of  the  glory 
of  leaving  a  Canadian  garrison  hi  the  fort  and  the 
French  flag  flapping  above  its  walls.  Surely,  for  such 
a  service,  the  king  could  not  do  less  than  make  him 
governor  of  all  that  vast  wilderness,  with  a  percentage 
from  every  pelt  taken  in  trade  there.  Then  he  should 
have  the  laugh  on  his  haughty  cousin,  the  admiral. 

With  his  head  full  of  such  fine  intentions  had  Duval 
headed  northward  along  the  coast  of  Labrador  at  that 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  245 

late  season.  Duller  men  might  have  waited  for  spring; 
but  Duval  was  not  dull.  Yet  the  fog  and  the  ice  played 
him  a  trick. 

Shortly  after  noon,  just  as  the  men  of  the  Brave 
Adventure  were  returning  their  empty  plates  and 
cannikins  to  the  galley,  having  fed  well  on  pea  soup 
and  roasted  vension,  a  brisk  little  wind  sprang  up 
in  the  west.  The  fog  broke,  lifted,  and  blew  away  —  and 
there,  not  four  hundred  yards  southward  of  the  brig, 
lay  two  vessels  in  the  grip  of  the  ice. 

Word  of  it  was  shouted  into  the  cabin  and  the 
forecastle.  In  a  twinkling  every  adventurer  and  mariner 
was  on  deck,  gaping  at  the  unexpected  sight.  The 
master  looked  for  a  moment  and  turned  to  Drurie 
with  an  expression  of  concern  on  his  face. 

"  It  is  Duval,  the  Canadian,"  he  said.  "  I've  seen 
them  before  —  aye,  and  run  from  them.  He  sails  the 
schooner  himself,  and  we  call  it  the  Black  Devil.  The 
little  brigantine  was  an  English  craft  once." 

"  Duval!  "  exclaimed  the  commander.  "  Lord,  but 
'twould  be  a  fine  thing  to  sink  both  his  ships  for  him." 

Danvers  smiled  without  enthusiasm.  "  Aye,  and  a 
hard  thing,"  he  replied.  "  Both  vessels  are  armed 
like  war-ships.  What  I  am  thinkin'  is,  'twould  be  a 
fine  thing  to  be  able  to  break  out  of  this  ice  and  show 
'em  our  heels.  Two  to  one  makes  rare  good  sport, 


246  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

to  my  mind,  with  a  good  sailin'  wind  and  a  free  keel; 
but  plugged  here  in  the  ice,  'twill  be  nothing  but  gun- 
play. The  ways  of  powder  and  shot  are  as  Fate 
intended  them,  and  a  cannon  fired  by  a  fool  shoots 
as  far  as  one  fired  by  a  master-gunner;  but  pretty 
sailin'  gives  the  ship  and  the  master  a  chance  to  work 
together  and  confound  the  enemy." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  Drurie;  "  but,  as  we  cannot 
do  any  fine  sailing,  as  we  did  against  Black  Monk, 
we  must  do  fine  shooting.  There  is  nothing  else  for 
it,  if  those  ships  in  truth  belong  to  Duval." 

As  yet,  they  could  see  no  sign  of  life  aboard  the 
schooner  and  the  brigantine.  The  guns  of  the  Brave 
Adventure  were  cleared  for  action.  Powder  and  ball, 
canister  and  grape,  were  carried  up  from  the  magazines, 
and  the  men  went  to  their  posts.  They  went  to  their 
posts  laughing  and  joking,  poor  fellows,  full-fed  and 
afraid  of  no  Frenchman  under  the  sun.  They  did  not 
give  a  thought  to  the  fact  that  this  fight  was  to  be  a 
simple  and  terrible  matter  of  give  and  take,  with  the 
same  broadsides  belching  all  through,  and  no  help 
from  the  wits  and  skill  of  Master  Danvers  and  the 
speed  and  handiness  of  the  brig. 

The  red  ensign  was  run  up;  and,  as  if  the  halyards 
were  hauled  by  the  same  hands,  up  went  the  white 
of  France  on  both  the  enemies. 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  247 

The  brigantine  lay  side-on  to  the  English  brig,  and 
the  schooner,  lying  farther  to  the  south  and  east, 
presented  her  bows  to  the  brig's  port  bow.  Northward, 
the  ice  ran  silver  and  shining  under  the  sun  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see.  To  the  west,  east,  and  south  it 
extended  for  only  a  mile  or  so,  and  lively  little  seas 
danced  about  the  edges  of  it. 

"  I  would  the  fog  had  not  lifted,"  said  Danvers 
earnestly. 

As  yet,  no  sign  of  life,  beyond  the  flying  of  the  flags, 
had  appeared  on  either  of  the  French  ships.  Drurie 
set  his  men  to  shifting  the  big  guns.  Two  on  the  port 
broadside  were  moved  forward  and  trained  on  the 
schooner,  and  the  other  two  were  run  across  the  deck 
to  reenforce  the  starboard  battery.  The  swivels  from 
the  stern  were  hauled  forward  and  mounted  on  the 
forecastlehead,  beside  the  long  bow-chaser.  By  this 
arrangement,  six  heavy  pieces  were  brought  to  bear 
on  the  brigantine  and  three  heavy  pieces  and  the  two 
swivels  on  the  schooner.  Many  of  the  bales  of  pelts 
were  thrown  up  from  the  hold  and  lashed  round  the 
batteries,  inside  the  bulwarks. 

Already  the  brief  northern  day  was  drawing  to  its 
close.  A  look  of  relief  began  to  spread  upon  the 
master's  broad  face. 

"  There'll  not  be  much  damage  done  in  the  dark," 


248  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

he  said,  "  and  the  floe  may  break  by  morning.  Then, 
if  ye  want  a  fight,  the  little  lady  will  make  a  pretty 
fight;  and  if  ye  want  to  get  away,  she'll  flap  her  skirts 
at  those  water-logged,  unhandy  arks." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  the  floe  will  break,"  replied 
Drurie;  "  but  I  am  troubled  now  to  know  how  I  can 
keep  the  Frenchmen  from  crossing  the  ice  during  the 
night  and  boarding  us.  No  doubt  both  ships  are 
heavily  manned." 

"  The  first  broadside  will  splinter  the  ice  for  yards 
on  every  side  of  us,"  answered  the  master.  "  They'll 
have  to  use  their  boats  to  come  aboard  us." 

"  Then  the  sooner  we  splinter  a  little  ice  the  better," 
said  Drurie. 

He  went  to  the  forward  battery  and  saw  the  gunners 
train  their  pets  on  the  narrow  bows  of  the  schooner. 
Next  moment,  the  five  pieces  crashed  with  a  deafening 
report,  and  the  brig  surged  backward  and  crumpled 
the  ice  for  a  yard  or  more  under  her  stern.  The  smoke 
drifted  over  the  deck,  shutting  the  schooner  off  from 
the  gunners'  view. 

Before  the  wind  had  blown  it  away,  the  reenforced 
battery  to  starboard  crashed  like  one  gigantic  gun. 
Beneath  that  choking  pall  of  smoke  the  men  toiled 
frantically,  swabbing  and  loading,  though  they  ex- 
pected the  deadly  tempest  of  the  French  reply  at  any 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  249 

moment.  The  yards  creaked,  and  the  brig  rocked  Li 
her  basin  of  shattered  ice.  The  smoke  thinned;  and 
at  the  very  moment  of  the  second  discharge  of  the 
forward  battery,  the  schooner  and  the  brigantine  sent 
their  answers. 

Two  men  were  struck  down  by  the  canister  from  the 
brigantine,  the  capstan  was  hit  by  a  round-shot  from 
the  schooner,  and  a  great  lump  of  oak  and  iron  was 
hurled  through  the  breast  of  one  of  the  gunners. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  battle  raged,  heroic,  appalling, 
cruel.  Then  darkness  silenced  the  guns.  The  Brave 
Adventure  had  suffered  terribly.  Young  Prowse  died 
as  many  another  Prowse  has  died  before  and  since 
this  unrecorded  battle  in  the  northern  ice. 

Dick  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  seriously. 
Danvers's  left  arm  was  blown  away  at  the  elbow, 
Tizard  lay  stunned  by  a  flying  splinter,  and  Drurie 
had  received  two  flesh-wounds.  One  of  the  master- 
gunners  and  nine  of  the  crew  lay  dead,  and  five  more 
were  seriously  torn  or  broken. 

Cremona,  who  had  worked  in  the  most  exposed 
places  throughout  the  fight  and  yet  had  escaped  without 
a  scratch,  now  showed  a  useful  knowledge  of  surgery. 
Assisted  by  Drurie,  Duff,  and  the  uninjured  men,  he 
cut  and  bathed  and  bandaged  swiftly  and  tenderly. 
The  wounded  men  were  carried  below.  Rum  was 


250  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

served  to  all  hands,  and  a  hearty  meal  was  eaten,  the 
wounded  men  being  fed  by  their  more  fortunate 
comrades.  Then  the  sentries  were  posted  for  the  first 
watch  of  the  night. 

The  brig  had  suffered  as  terribly  as  her  brave  com- 
pany. Her  foremast  was  a  wreck,  her  bulwarks  were 
shattered,  and  two  of  her  heavy  guns  were  disabled. 
The  forecastle  was  battered  and  splintered,  and  the 
bowsprit  carried  clean  away.  A  dozen  great  shot  were 
lodged  hi  the  stout  timbers  of  her  hull,  and  several 
had  entered  her  hold  dangerously  near  the  waterline. 

The  men  of  the  brig  could  not  see  what  damage  had 
been  done  to  the  French  vessels.  During  the  fight,  the 
hanging  smoke  had  allowed  them  but  brief  glimpses  of 
their  targets;  and  by  the  time  the  smoke  had  cleared, 
it  was  night.  But  they  had  reason  to  believe  that  the 
brigantine  was  in  a  bad  state,  for  her  fire  had  slackened 
by  half  before  the  end  of  the  engagement.  For- 
tunately, the  night  was  dark  and  there  was  no  moon. 

Drurie's  heart  was  all  but  broken  by  the  death  of 
Lawrence  Prowse  and  his  brave  men,  and  the  suffering 
of  the  wounded;  and,  for  all  his  courage,  he  could  see 
no  hope  for  the  morrow  unless  a  strong  wind  rose  in 
the  night.  Even  with  the  ice  broken,  it  was  doubtful 
whether  the  brig  would  be  able  to  escape  from  the 
schooner  in  her  shattered  condition.  Unable  to  sleep, 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  251 

he  spent  the  whole  night  hi  wandering  from  one  part 
of  the  brig  to  another,  now  pausing  to  ease  the  position, 
or  give  water,  to  one  of  the  wounded,  and  again  to 
speak  a  word  of  encouragement  to  the  men  still  on 
duty. 

To  his  own  wounds  he  gave  not  a  thought,  though 
both  were  deep  and  painful.  He  had  washed  and  bound 
them  soon  after  the  firing  had  ceased  —  and  that  was 
the  last  attention  he  had  given  them.  But  Dick's, 
Tizard's,  and  Danvers's  injuries  worried  him  beyond 
expression.  He  had  carried  Dick  to  his  own  berth 
in  the  inner  cabin.  Already,  before  midnight,  the  poor 
lad  was  delirious  from  the  agony  of  shattered  shoulder 
and  bruised  chest.  Danvers,  also,  was  growing  light- 
headed from  intense  suffering,  and  Tizard  still  lay 
unconscious,  breathing  heavily.  There  was  not  a 
corner  of  the  little  vessel  free  from  death  or  agony. 

Drurie  was  standing  on  the  forecastle-head,  leaning 
on  one  of  the  cannon,  with  his  face  sunk  on  his  folded 
arms,  when  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  This  very  bad,"  said  the  voice  of  Cremona.  "  I 
don't  smile  at  you  crying,  Frank,  for  I  cry  myself  at 
this.  I  see  plenty  of  men  dead  before  now;  but  not 
men  I  love.  Dick  will  die,  I  think.  God,  I  love  him 
like  a  mother  and  a  father!  Now,  you  let  me  tie  your 
leg  again." 


252  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

But  Francis  Drurie  would  not  hear  of  that.  His 
leg  was  not  hurting  him.  He  had  lost  a  pint  or  so  of 
blood  —  that  was  all.  He  urged  Cremona  to  lie  down 
and  try  to  get  a  few  hours'  sleep. 

"  No;  I  sleep  soon  enough  for  a  very  long  time, 
perhaps,"  replied  Cremona.  "  See,  the  wind  is  dead 
and  the  air  is  clear.  Soon  the  sun  will  come  up  — 
and  then  we  begin  loading  and  firing  again.  No, 
Frank ;  we  better  stay  awake  now,  for  we  all  sleep  soon 
enough,  I  think." 

"  As  Heaven  wills,"  replied  Drurie  quietly.  "  Better 
men  than  I  am  —  and  maybe  as  good  men  as  you, 
Cremona  —  have  died  this  way." 

"  You  think  me  a  good  man,  Frank  ?  "  asked  Cre- 
mona earnestly. 

"  One  of  the  best,"  answered  Drurie  shortly. 

Cremona  made  no  reply,  but  a  fine  elation  of  spirit 
went  through  him  like  fire.  He  had  lived  a  hard  life, 
and  had  been  a  low  rogue  hi  his  time;  but  here  was  a 
fine  ending.  He  had  been  born  into  the  world  among 
criminals  and  outcasts;  and  now  he  stood  at  the 
threshold  of  death,  a  gentleman  among  gentlemen, 
a  worthy  member  of  a  gallant  company. 

Without  another  word  the  two  parted,  the  heart  of 
each  warm  with  admiration  and  affection  for  the 
other.  Drurie  went  into  the  forecastle  to  tend  the 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  253 

sufferers  there,  and  Cremona  hurried  back  to  the 
wounded  men  in  the  cabin.  Tizard  passed  away 
without  a  struggle,  or  without  once  having  regained 
consciousness,  an  hour  before  dawn.  Cremona  and  the 
commander  stitched  him  in  his  canvas  shroud  with 
their  own  hands,  with  a  round-shot  at  his  feet.  The 
thin  ice,  which  had  formed  again  since  the  guns  had 
ceased  their  recoiling,  shattered  as  he  went  through. 
Down  he  sank  through  the  cold  depths,  to  where  his 
comrade  Prowse  and  a  brave  company  awaited  him, 
all  lying  still  and  blind  on  the  sea- floor,  heedless  of 
ambition  or  duty  until  the  call  to  the  last  parade. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  BRAVE  ADVENTURE  SUNK 

A  CLEAR  dawn  heralded  the  last  day  of  that  heroic 
but  nameless  battle.  By  the  first  light  Drurie  looked 
at  his  enemies  in  wonder.  The  white  hull  of  the 
brigantine  was  shattered  and  stained  with  blood. 
Not  one  of  her  spars  was  standing,  and  she  lay  with 
a  sharp  list  to  starboard.  The  schooner  was  not  so 
seriously  injured,  but  her  great  foremast  lay  on  the 
ice,  cut  clear,  and  her  bows  were  riddled  with  shot 
holes. 

Drurie  called  his  men  together. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  we  have  fought  our  guns  and  our 
ship  bravely  enough;  but  the  odds  were  against  us 
from  the  first,  and  are  against  us  still.  I  speak  to  you 
honestly.  I  see  no  chance  of  our  beating  off  these 
Frenchmen.  We  have  done  our  duty.  I  am  ready  to 
fight  again,  or  to  surrender.  What  is  your  wish  in 
the  matter?" 

"  Let  us  fight,"  cried  several  of  the  men.  "  We'd 
better  die  fightin'  than  be  hung  to  the  yard-arm." 

254 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         255 

"  Aye,  sir,  this  here  Duval  don't  care  what  he  do 
to  prisoners  when  he  be  in  a  temper,"  said  the  boat- 
swain. "  Let  us  fight  it  out,  sir;  and  if  we  die  —  why, 
sir,  we've  all  to  come  to  it  some  day." 

That  suited  every  man  aboard,  sound  and  wounded. 
They  had  no  desire  for  Canadian  prisons,  or  for  ending 
a  good  fight  by  kicking  their  heels  at  the  end  of  a 
rope.  Each  man  drank  a  measure  of  rum  after  his 
breakfast,  and  then  went  willingly  but  stolidly  to  his 
post. 

The  sun  slid  up,  clear  as  glass,  but  without  warmth. 
Such  wind  as  there  was  crept  cheerlessly  out  of  the 
northwest,  over  miles  of  frozen  sea.  The  air  was 
bitterly  cold.  The  cold  alone  was  enough  to  chill  the 
courage  of  brave  men,  but  the  lads  of  the  brig  stood 
to  their  guns  and  gazed  unconcernedly  across  the 
glistening  ice  to  the  silent  ships  of  the  enemy.  But 
those  ships  did  not  remain  silent  for  long  after  the 
rising  of  the  sun.  The  schooner  reopened  the  battle 
with  a  discharge  of  grape  that  flew  high.  The  brig 
replied  with  both  her  batteries,  and  the  horrible  fight 
was  on  again. 

Through  a  rift  in  the  cloud  of  smoke,  Drurie  saw 
men  running  away  from  the  brigantine  across  the  ice. 
Thinking  they  were  preparing  to  board  the  brig,  he 
swept  them  with  canister.  The  survivors  made  all 


256  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

speed  to  the  schooner.  They  were  not  many.  When 
the  smoke  thinned  again  the  brigantine  had  vanished, 
and  only  a  pool  of  gray,  dancing  water  was  where  she 
had  been. 

The  last  charge  of  powder  aboard  the  Brave  Adven- 
ture had  been  fired.  She  was  settling  steadily  by  the 
head.  Drurie  wiped  the  blood  from  his  eyes  and 
looked  round  him.  He  saw  a  few  men  leaning  list- 
lessly against  the  silent  guns,  and  many  sprawled 
upon  the  deck.  The  fight  was  over  —  and  lost.  Again 
blood  trickled  into  his  eyes.  Then  he  saw  Cremona, 
and  felt  him  press  something  into  place  upon  his  fore- 
head and  tie  a  cloth  around  it.  Without  a  word  he 
turned  and  walked  aft,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was 
about.  In  the  cabin  he  found  both  Dick  and  Danvers 
dead.  He  touched  their  cold  calm  faces  with  his 
hands. 

He  saw  Cremona  enter,  kneel  beside  Dick's  body 
and  fling  his  arms  forward.  He  heard  the  big  man 
weep.  He  turned  away  and  went  on  deck;  and  close 
beside  the  stump  of  the  mainmast  he  stumbled  over 
Duff's  lifeless  body.  What  were  these  strange  beings 
clustering  about  him,  with  blood  and  sweat  and  powder- 
stains  on  their  grotesque  faces?  Ah!  They  were  his 
own  men  —  his  own  brave  lads !  There  was  Nicholas, 
with  a  bandage  of  sodden  cloth  over  half  his  face. 


"  DUVAL'S    DARK    FACE    WAS    FLUSHED     WITH    ANGER. 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         257 

He  counted  them  slowly.  Ten!  Yes,  ten  was  all  he 
could  make  of  them,  and  three  were  on  their  hands  and 
knees. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  the  fight  is  finished." 

He  drew  his  sword  and  tried  to  break  it  across  his 
knee ;  but  the  good  blade  was  too  tough  for  his  nerve- 
less muscles. 

"  Let  me  do  it,"  said  Cremona.  So  he  broke  his 
commander's  sword,  and  then  his  own,  and  tossed  the 
bright  pieces  into  the  scuppers.  At  that  moment 
Duval  and  twenty  of  his  Canadians  climbed  over  the 
side  of  the  Brave  Adventure. 

Duval's  dark  face  was  flushed  with  anger.  He  glared 
at  Cremona. 

"  Do  you  surrender?  "  he  asked. 

"  This  gentleman  is  the  commander,"  said  Cremona, 
indicating  Drurie. 

•  Well,  my  fine  little  cock,  have  you  had  enough?  " 
cried  the  Canadian. 

This  manner  of  address  cleared  Drurie's  brain. 

"  I  am  ready  to  give  myself  and  my  men  up  to 
Captain  Duval,  but  not  to  his  boatswain,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  Captain  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval,"  replied 
the  other,  more  gently. 

"  A  man  of  honourable  family,  I  have  heard.  Well, 
sir,  I  surrender  Captain  Cremona,  my  men,  and 


258  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

myself  to  you  as  prisoners  of  war,"  said  Drurie.  His 
clear  blue  eyes  gazed  steadily  and  fearlessly  upon  the 
Canadian,  with  a  light  in  them  that  was  enough  to 
shame  the  devil  himself. 

It  shamed  Duval,  whom  no  bluster  could  disconcert. 
It  appealed  to  that  better  part  of  his  nature  that  came 
to  him  from  hundreds  of  valiant  men  and  beautiful 
women.  He  turned  to  the  men  behind  him  and  spoke 
to  them  swiftly,  for  a  little  while,  in  the  French  tongue. 

Four  of  the  Canadians  began  to  lead  the  survivors 
of  the  crew  of  the  Brave  Adventure  across  the  deck, 
two  by  two.  They  carried  those  who  were  unable  to 
walk.  They  lowered  them  all  into  a  boat  that  lay 
among  the  broken  ice  under  the  brig's  side.  Drurie 
and  Cremona  were  not  disturbed. 

Duval  stood  beside  them  giving  orders  to  the  main 
body  of  the  force  he  had  brought  aboard  with  him. 
The  cabin  was  looted,  and  bale  after  bale  of  the  costly 
furs  were  brought  up  from  the  hold.  The  brig  now 
was  deep  in  the  water,  and  sharply  sunk  by  the  head. 
All  the  schooner's  boats  were  around  her,  having  been 
dragged  across  the  ice  and  launched  into  the  narrow 
strip  of  water.  As  quickly  as  they  were  freighted 
from  the  brig's  cargo  they  were  pulled  to  the  solid  ice, 
unloaded  and  pulled  back.  A  shiver  passed  through 
the  crippled  brig,  fore  and  aft.  Duval  shouted  to 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         259 

his  men,  and  those  below  quickly  scrambled  on 
deck. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,"  he  said  to  Drurie  and  Cremona. 

Drurie  was  helped  down  into  one  of  the  boats, 
for  now  his  wounds  were  stiffening.  All  the  boats 
were  pushed  quickly  to  the  ice  and  pulled  out  upon 
the  glistening  surface.  A  sound  like  a  sigh  came  from 
the  wounded  and  deserted  brig,  and  every  one  turned 
to  look  at  her.  She  swayed  gently  in  her  narrow  sea- 
bed. Her  sunken  bows  seemed  to  lift  a  little,  then 
pitched  deep.  The  high  poop,  with  its  wide  ports  and 
gilded  scroll-work,  soared  aloft.  Left  by  an  oversight 
of  Duval's,  the  red  ensign  flapped  on  the  stump  of  the 
mainmast.  Amid  a  roaring  and  surging  of  waters 
the  Brave  Adventure  pitched  down  to  her  deep-sea 
grave.  A  few  shattered  and  blood-stained  timbers 
leaped  up  and  floated  on  the  surface  of  the  ice-rimmed 
pool. 

A  surgeon  aboard  the  schooner  dressed  the  wounds 
of  Drurie  and  the  other  prisoners.  They  were  lowered 
into  the  hold,  after  the  bales  of  furs.  All  who  were  not 
disabled  by  their  injuries  were  put  in  irons.  The  hold 
was  warm  —  that  is,  the  amidships  part  of  it,  where  the 
prisoners  lay.  The  schooner  had  not  suffered  any- 
where but  in  her  bows.  Two  lanterns  hung  from  the 
deck-beams,  and  made  blurs  in  the  yellow  gloom.  They 


260  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

were  of  no  use  to  see  by,  but  they  cheered  the  eyes 
and  held  back  the  darkness. 

Soon  after  the  dressing  of  their  wounds  Drurie  and 
his  companions  fell  into  the  dreamless  sleep  of  utter 
exhaustion.  Only  their  wrists  were  shackled,  so  they 
could  lie  comfortably  in  any  position  that  suited  their 
aching  limbs. 

Drurie  was  awakened  by  the  touch  of  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  sleepily,  thinking  himself 
in  his  berth  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure. 

A  bowl  of  broth  was  placed  in  his  manacled  hands. 
Then  he  remembered  everything;  but  he  also  remem- 
bered the  vision  that  had  come  to  him  in  the  cabin  of 
the  brig.  By  the  dull  glow  of  the  lanterns  he  could 
make  out  the  figure  of  a  man  stooped  beside  him.  His 
stomach  yearned  for  the  broth  which  he  held  in  his 
hands. 

"  Are  my  men  fed  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  All  are  drinking  the  good  soup,  save  one  who 
died  while  you  slept,"  replied  the  voice  of  the  surgeon, 
in  English. 

"  Who  has  died  ?  "  asked  Drurie. 

"  It  be  poor  Hipwood  has  passed  away,  sir,"  said 
one  of  the  men. 

Drurie  drank  his  broth,  which  was  rich  and  warm, 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk          261 

to  the  last  drop  and  the  last  grain  of  barley.  The 
French  surgeon  continued  to  crouch  beside  him,  his 
imagination  captivated  by  the  courage  and  fortitude 
of  this  slender  young  Virginian. 

One  of  the  men  had  told  him  of  the  way  he  had 
received  Duval  aboard  the  sinking  brig  —  proud, 
cool,  and  fearless.  The  surgeon  was  a  good  deal  of  a 
coward  himself,  but  he  thought  courage  one  of  the 
highest  attributes  of  human  and  animal  nature.  He 
was  a  student  of  men,  and  fearlessness  in  the  face  of 
danger  was  one  of  the  things  he  could  not  understand. 
The  recklessness  of  rage  he  counted  a  small  matter. 
It  was  the  reasoning  courage  of  such  men  as  Drurie 
and  his  companions  that  attracted  and  puzzled  him. 
Now  he  waited,  hi  silence,  beside  the  young  Virginian, 
until  the  bowl  was  empty.  Then  he  took  it  from  the 
manacled  hands. 

"  The  ice  is  breaking  away,"  he  said.  "  We  may 
be  clear  of  it  by  morning.  We  are  drifting  southward 
and  westward  fast." 

"  And  what  is  the  time  of  day?  "  asked  Drurie. 

"  It  is  now  about  three  hours  since  sunset,"  replied 
the  surgeon.  "  The  carpenters  have  been  hard  at 
work  since  noon,  patching  the  hull  and  superstructure 
and  setting  up  a  new  spar  forward.  Your  guns  did 
terrific  damage,  captain." 


262  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  They  did  what  they  could,"  said  Drurie.  And 
then :  "  You  talk  like  an  Englishman,"  he  added. 

"  That  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,"  replied  the  sur- 
geon, "  as  I  have  lived  hi  both  England  and  one  of 
her  western  colonies.  My  mother  was  an  English- 
woman, and  I  was  brought  up,  as  a  child  and  youth, 
by  her  relatives.  Later  I  lived  for  several  years  in 
New  England.  But  my  heart  was  French  all  the 
while;  and,  hi  time,  I  followed  my  heart.  But  tell 
me  of  yourself,  captain." 

"  There  is  little  to  tell,"  said  Drurie,  with  a  note 
of  bitterness  —  or  was  it  only  weariness  —  hi  his 
voice.  "  I  am  a  Virginian.  I  have  fought  against  the 
savages  there,  and  I  have  sailed  on  two  voyages  to 
Hudson  Bay  as  commander  of  the  Brave  Adventure  — 
the  brig  that  sank  to-day.  And  here  I  am,  sir.  It  is 
a  fine  history." 

"  It  is  a  brave  history,"  replied  the  surgeon. 

Francis  Drurie  lay  wide-awake  through  that  long 
night,  with  a  thousand  scenes  passing  and  repassing 
across  the  boundless  field  of  his  inner  vision.  It  was 
as  if  he  watched  a  play  upon  a  stage  as  wide  as  earth 
and  heaven. 

He  saw  the  Virginian  forests,  the  lodges  of  the 
savages,  and  the  weather-stained  militiamen  beside 
whom  he  had  ridden  and  fought.  Again  he  saw  the 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         263 

autumn  groves  through  which  he  had  returned  to 
Admiral's  Pride;  and  again  he  heard  Isobel's  song,  and 
overtook  her  in  the  path.  He  lived  through  that 
wonderful  time  again  —  the  night  of  the  ball  and  the 
day  after. 

Men  of  Bristol  flocked  across  his  vision,  and  in- 
significant scraps  of  conversations  with  Smithers,  the 
merry  merchant,  flashed  clear  in  his  memory.  Again 
he  and  Dick  and  Cremona  travelled  hi  Spain  to- 
gether; and  now  Dick  lay  under  the  gray  ice,  and 
Cremona  slept  here  in  the  hold  of  the  French  schooner, 
with  irons  on  his  great  wrists. 

Minute  by  minute  his  brain  went  over  every  incident 
of  the  terrible  battle,  sparing  him  nothing,  showing  him 
again  the  blood,  the  leaping  splinters,  the  falling  spars, 
and  the  limp  bodies  of  his  friends  and  comrades.  He 
wanted  to  sleep  —  to  forget  the  horror,  and  dream  only 
of  Virginia  and  Isobel.  But  his  brain  was  too  active 
for  sleep.  Outraged  by  the  events  of  the  last  two 
days,  it  had  got  beyond  control  of  his  will.  After  it 
had  reviewed  the  past,  it  turned  fearfully  to  the  future. 

What  was  to  become  of  them?  Did  Duval  intend 
to  sail  straight  to  Quebec,  and  imprison  them  there, 
or  would  he  take  them  to  some  French  harbour  in 
Newfoundland  or  to  France? 

At  last  Drurie  crawled  over  and  awoke  Cremona. 


264  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  I   cannot   sleep,"    he   whispered.       "  My   brain   is 
on  fire.    Let  us  talk  for  a  little  while." 

"  I  was  dreaming.  We  were  in  the  little  lugger 
again  —  you  and  Dick  and  I  —  sailing  along  in  the 
sunshine  over  that  blue  water,"  said  Cremona. 

"  No,  do  not  talk  of  those  things,"  pleaded  Drurie. 
"  They  are  what  spin  in  my  mind  until  I  can  stand  no 
more.    Tell  me  of  things  and  people  I  do  not  know  — 
not  of  the  things  I  have  known  and  lost." 

"  I  will  tell  you  of  an  old  man  who  was  good  to  me 
long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  boy,"  said  Cremona; 
and  he  told  of  his  first  voyage,  and  of  an  old  boatswain 
who  used  to  share  his  food  with  him,  and  comfort 
him  when  others  were  cruel,  and  tell  him  wonderful 
stories. 

Cremona  went  on  from  speaking  of  the  boatswain 
to  reciting  some  of  those  long-forgotten  tales.  Drurie 
listened  eagerly.  Cremona's  voice  was  low  and  steady. 
Drurie's  eyelids  closed,  and  opened  quickly.  Yes,  he 
had  heard  this  story  before,  long  ago,  from  his  mother. 
How  strange  and  comforting  it  was  to  hear  Cremona 
telling  it.  Again  his  eyes  closed.  And  when  the  men 
in  the  forecastle  were  just  beginning  to  stir,  and  the 
watch  on  deck  was  looking  eastward  at  the  dawn, 
Drurie's  tired  brain  fell  asleep. 

The  surgeon  appeared  early  in  the  prisoners'  quar- 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         265 

ters,  with  a  man  behind  him  carrying  food  and 
drink. 

He  found  that  another  of  the  wounded  Englishmen 
had  died  in  the  night.  He  awoke  Drurie  and  Cremona, 
who  were  sleeping  soundly  side  by  side.  His  assistant 
aroused  the  others,  and  all  fell  heartily  to  the  business 
of  eating.  But  one  of  the  men  suddenly  became  uneasy 
and  began  to  feel  about  in  the  darkness  with  his  feet. 

"  Wake  up,  Jim,"  he  cried.  "  Ye  was  feelin'  better 
last  night.  Wake  up,  now,  an'  try  a  snack  o'  this  here 
salt  junk." 

"  My  lad,  your  friend  is  dead,"  said  the  surgeon. 
"  He  was  more  than  half  dead  when  he  was  brought 
aboard.  But  the  rest  of  you  will  live,  I  think." 

The  fellow  who  had  called  his  friend  to  wake  up  and 
eat  trembled  violently.  A  chill  passed  over  the  little 
company,  as  if  a  cold  wind  had  blown  upon  them. 

"Is  it  Jim  Hawkins  who  is  gone  now?"  asked 
Drurie. 

"  Aye,  sir,  it  be  Jim  Hawkins  —  him  that  beat  us 
all  at  the  broadsword  play  at  the  fort,"  said  one  of  the 
men. 

"  He  was  a  good  lad,"  said  Drurie.  "  He  never 
shirked  his  duty,  and  he  died  without  a  cry.  He'll 
rest  easy,  lads,  and  go  to  a  sure  reward." 

The  men  returned  to  their  food  without  any  more 


266  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

talk.  Death  had  lost  much  of  its  awesomeness  in  their 
eyes  of  late.  It  did  not  seem  such  a  terrible  matter, 
after  all,  here  in  the  hold  of  the  French  schooner, 
among  the  drifting  ice.  Neither  life  nor  death  seemed 
a  thing  worth  troubling  about  now.  Poor  old  Jim! 
Well,  he  was  past  suffering  now,  and  perhaps  well  clear 
of  what  was  to  come.  More  than  one  of  those  brave 
fellows  envied  the  dead  man  in  their  hearts. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

UNSUSPECTED   FATE 

ON  the  day  of  Hawkins's  death,  and  after  the  body 
had  been  carried  up  and  pitched  into  the  sea,  Captain 
Duval  himself  descended  into  the  hold.  He  had  been 
in  a  terrible  temper  up  to  this  time;  and  so,  wishing  to 
appear  a  man  of  breeding  in  Drurie's  eyes,  had  kept 
away  from  his  prisoners. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  a  pirate,  he  had  reason 
to  feel  bad-tempered ;  for  he  had  lost  a  vessel  and  forty 
men,  and  his  plans  for  the  winter  were  knocked  to 
ruins,  all  for  about  a  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  booty 
and  a  handful  of  prisoners.  And  the  English  fort  in 
the  wilderness  stood  unharmed,  flying  its  red  ensign 
at  the  winter  winds. 

All  this  was  a  sorry  blow  to  the  Canadian's  pride 
as  well  as  to  his  pocket.  But  he  regained  control  of 
his  temper  before  going  into  the  hold,  anxious  to 
convince  the  pale  young  gentleman  in  irons  that  he, 
too,  was  a  gentleman. 

Duval  carried  an  extra  lantern  with  him,  and  squatted 
267 


268  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

on  a  bale  of  skins  beside  Drurie  and  Cremona.  "  I 
hope  you  have  been  comfortable  here,"  he  said,  as 
if  he  had  entertained  honoured  guests  hi  his  best  bed- 
chamber. "  And  I  hope  you  have  had  sufficient 
food." 

"  You  have  treated  us  with  exceptional  kindness,  and 
I  thank  you  for  it  hi  all  our  names,"  replied  the  Vir- 
ginian. 

Duval  was  flattered  by  this.  "  Some  commanders 
would  not  have  been  so  considerate,"  he  said.  "  But 
Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  is  a  gentleman.  Brave  him- 
self, he  respects  brave  men  —  even  if  they  have  sunk 
one  of  his  ships  and  killed  forty  of  his  mariners." 

"  We  did  what  we  could,  captain,"  replied  Drurie 
quietly.  "  With  sea  room,  I  doubt  not  but  that  we 
should  have  sent  both  your  vessels  to  the  bottom  and 
killed  eighty  of  your  men." 

"Not  so  fast!"  cried  Duval.  Then  he  laughed, 
for  he  had  a  sense  of  humour.  "  You  are  outspoken, 
captain.  Your  spirit  is  amazing  high." 

"  I  speak  what  I  think  —  and  my  spirit  is  as  Heaven 
made  it." 

"  'Tis  so  with  all  of  us.  So  gentlemen  of  distin- 
guished family  are  made.  But  your  friend  here,  Cap- 
tain Cremona,  says  nothing." 

"  When  I  talk,"  said  Cremona,  "  I  talk  to  a  purpose. 


Unsuspected  Fate  260 

Will  you  tell  me  how  things  are  doing  up  in  daylight, 
Captain  Duval?" 

"  The  ice  has  spread,"  replied  the  Canadian,  "  and 
we  are  sailing  southward  very  pleasantly,  though  our 
rigging  is  not  what  it  was." 

"May  I  ask  what  you  intend  to  do  with  us?" 
inquired  Drurie. 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you  at  present,"  said  Duval 
politely.  "  I  have  not  yet  decided.  If  St.  John's  were 
not  in  the  hands  of  the  English  again,  I'd  land  you 
there.  If  I  were  bound  for  Quebec,  I'd  take  you  to 
the  governor  there;  but  I  am  not.  As  it  is,  I  cannot  say 
what  I  shall  do  with  you;  but  you  may  be  sure  that 
while  you  are  in  my  hands  you  shall  be  treated  with 
every  consideration  due  to  prisoners  of  war." 

Then  he  went  away  before  they  could  ask  him  any 
more  questions. 

Within  a  half-hour  of  his  visit,  a  small  measure  of 
fine  brandy  was  served  to  each  of  the  prisoners. 

"  I  think  this  Duval  an  honest  fellow,"  said  Francis 
to  Cremona. 

Cremona  swallowed  the  last  drop  of  his  brandy 
before  replying.  Then  he  said :  "  I  think  he  has  an 
honest  side  to  him  —  and  another  side  that  is  not  so 
honest.  He  is  gentleman  now  —  rogue  to-morrow. 
That  is  what  I  hear.  He  had  something  bad  in  his 


270  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

brain  even  while  he  talked  to  us  so  polite.  I  could 
see  it  behind  his  eyes,  by  the  lantern-light.  I  think 
this  Duval  cares  greatly  for  you  to  think  him  all  gentle- 
man now;  but  when  you  no  longer  have  your  eye  on 
him,  then  he  not  give  a  hang  what  you  think.  He  is 
a  vain  fellow,  but  he  knows  his  betters." 

"  He  spoke  us  fairly  enough,  and  has  treated  us 
well,"  replied  Drurie. 

"  I  fear,  Frank,  you  will  hear  him  speak  another 
tune  one  day,"  returned  Cremona.     "  The  gentleman 
in  him  will  be  weaker  than  the  rogue  one  fine  day  - 
and  then  you  will  want  to  break  his  head." 

"  We  must  take  a  little  trouble  to  humour  him,  my 
friend,"  said  Drurie. 

The  wounded  prisoners  regained  strength  day  by 
day.  Fortier,  the  surgeon,  attended  to  their  injuries 
with  honest  care,  and  was  proud  of  the  success  that 
crowned  his  work.  Only  young  Nicholas,  Drurie's 
servant,  seemed  to  hang  in  the  wind  in  the  matter  of 
recovery.  His  wound  had  not  been  more  severe 
than  the  wounds  of  others;  but  his  courage  failed  him 
at  thought  of  a  French  prison,  and  a  slow  fever  thinned 
his  blood. 

Now,  the  hatch  overhead  was  often  removed,  and 
left  off  throughout  the  heat  of  the  day,  letting  the 
fresh  wind  renew  the  air  and  lift  the  gloom  of  the  hold. 


Unsuspected  Fate  271 

At  the  first  sight  of  the  blue  sky  and  the  white  clouds 
driving  over,  hope  awoke  in  the  heart  of  every  man  of 
that  shackled  company.  Even  Nicholas  opened  his 
eyes  and  took  some  interest  in  the  things  of  the  present. 
As  for  the  others  —  why,  it  was  like  morning  after  a 
night  of  despair. 

They  had  almost  become  convinced  that  the  whole 
world  was  dark,  faintly  lit  by  the  flames  of  two  tallow- 
dips  in  tin  lanterns.  They  had  all  but  forgotten 
that  winds  blow  and  sails  are  spread  on  lively  yards 
and  clouds  voyage  across  the  dome  of  heaven.  For 
days  they  had  been  nothing  more  than  dreamers  of 
dull  dreams.  Now,  in  a  twinkling,  they  were  living 
sailors  again.  They  began  to  talk  of  gay  things  they 
had  done,  at  one  time  and  another,  and  even  to  make 
light  of  French  prisons. 

Captain  Duval  did  not  visit  them  again;  but  on 
the  fourteenth  day,  after  the  schooner  had  got  clear 
of  the  ice,  he  sent  word  for  Drurie  to  come  to  the  cabin. 

It  was  Fortier  who  brought  the  message  and  helped 
the  Virginian  to  the  deck,  by  way  of  a  passage  that 
led  into  the  forecastle  and  up  an  iron  ladder  to  the 
brisk  and  sunlit  world  above.  The  men  of  the  schooner 
eyed  Drurie  with  interest  —  even  with  admiration  — 
as  he  walked  aft,  with  his  shackled  hands  and  white, 
fearless  face. 


272  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

At  the  door  of  the  inner  cabin  the  surgeon  left  him. 

An  armed  mariner  opened  the  door  for  Drurie, 
followed  him  into  the  cabin,  and  closed  the  door.  The 
ports  stood  open,  admitting  a  draft  of  wind,  a  wavering 
radiance  of  sunlight,  and  the  sibilant  complaining  of 
the  schooner's  wake.  On  the  locker  under  the  open 
ports  lolled  Duval  —  ruddy,  black-haired,  and  black- 
eyed  —  and  garbed  midway  between  the  style  of  a 
French  gentleman  and  a  pirate. 

"  Place  a  seat  for  Captain  Drurie,"  he  commanded, 
without  rising. 

Drurie  sat  down  heavily  on  the  stool  that  was  pushed 
against  the  back  of  his  legs  bv  the  armed  mariner. 

"  Another  glass  on  the  table,  Pierre.  And  now 
you  may  withdraw  to  the  other  side  of  the  door,"  said 
the  Canadian. 

Left  alone  with  his  prisoner,  Duval  sat  up  and 
pushed  a  bottle  across  the  table.  "It  is  good  wine, 
from  the  lazaretto  of  your  own  unfortunate  brig,  I 
believe,"  he  said.  "  Help  yourself,  captain." 

Drurie  flushed  quickly  and  lifted  his  hands  above 
the  edge  of  the  table,  so  that  the  short  chain  between 
the  bracelets  of  iron  clanked  against  the  bottle.  "  I 
must  trouble  you,  I  fear,"  he  said. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,"  cried  Duval,  rising  quickly. 
He  did  not  strike  off  the  irons,  however,  but  contented 


Unsuspected  Fate  273 

himself  with  pouring  wine  for  the  Virginian  and  then 
for  himself. 

Drurie  felt  faint.  He  raised  his  glass  clumsily  in 
both  manacled  hands  and  emptied  it  at  a  gulp. 

Duval  smiled  and  refilled  the  glass.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  his  lolling  position  on  the  locker. 

"  Captain  Drurie,"  he  said,  "  I  have  given  a  great 
deal  of  thought  to  the  case  of  you  and  your  companions, 
and  also  to  the  losses  I  have  suffered  at  your  hands. 
The  cargo  and  stores  of  your  brig  did  not  repay  one- 
fifth  of  my  losses.  I  must  try  to  recover  what  I  can. 
You  understand,  captain,  that  I  do  not  work  alto- 
gether for  glory.  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  must  look 
sharp  to  the  doubloons.  But  I  do  not  blind  myself 
to  the  rights  and  feelings  of  others." 

"  I  believe  you,"  replied  Drurie  quietly.  "  You 
speak  honestly,  and  have  treated  me  with  more  con- 
sideration than  I  expected  at  your  hands." 

Duval  leaned  across  the  table  and  refilled  the  other's 
glass. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  I  cannot  carry  you  to 
Quebec,  as  I  told  you  before;  and  I  should  be  sorry 
to  do  so,  anyway.  I  am  sailing  to  the  islands  to  the 
south  of  St.  Kitt's,  to  see  if  I  cannot  pick  up  a  prize 
or  two  in  those  waters.  And  I  have  a  proposition  — 
a  suggestion  —  to  make  to  you." 


274  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Drurie  nodded  and  looked  at  him  hopefully.  What 
now? 

"  I  honour  your  spirit  and  that  of  your  big  friend 
and  your  men,"  continued  the  Canadian.  "  It  lost 
me  a  good  ship,  forty  stout  lads,  and  a  deal  of  stores; 
but  I  honour  it,  for  all  it  has  cost  me.  Never  have  I 
seen  such  fighting  as  that  of  your  little  brig. 

"  To  show  my  admiration,  I  now  offer  you  a  position 
as  my  lieutenant  and  berths  for  your  friend  and  your 
eight  men.  It  is  freedom  I  offer  you,  and  membership 
hi  a  brave  company.  When  you  have  served  with  me 
a  year,  if  you  or  any  of  your  men  are  then  anxious  to 
leave  me,  I  will  set  you  ashore  near  some  English 
settlement." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  offer,"  replied  Drurie.  "  No 
doubt,  you  mean  it  kindly.  But  serving  you  for  a 
year  means  preying  upon  my  own  country  for  a  year. 
For  myself,  I  refuse  the  offer.  My  comrades  are  free 
to  do  as  they  please  in  the  matter." 

"  You  do  not  ask  of  the  alternative  ?  "  said  Duval, 
smiling. 

"  No  matter  what  the  alternative  may  be,  I  reject 
your  offer,"  said  the  Virginian,  his  blue  eyes  shining 
as  cold  as  ice. 

"  You  speak  bravely,"  said  the  Canadian.  "  But 
listen,  Captain  Drurie.  Those  who  cannot  serve  me, 


Unsuspected  Fate  275 

and  so  earn  their  freedom  in  an  easy  and  pleasant 
manner,  must  be  sold  to  some  sugar- planter  in  the 
southern  islands.  Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  that  ? 
A  white  slave  leads  a  hard  life.  One  had  better  row 
in  a  Turkish  galley  than  work  in  the  fields  of  a  West 
Indian  plantation.  Your  courage  is  magnificent. 
'Tis  a  pity  to  think  of  it  breaking,  day  by  day,  under 
the  whips  of  half-caste  drivers." 

"  I  see  my  duty  plain,"  replied  Drurie  promptly. 
"  I  cannot  turn  my  hand  against  the  ships  of  my  own 
people.  What  is  fighting  for  you  would  be  nothing 
but  black  murder  for  me.  The  blood  on  my  hands 
would  not  be  blood  of  my  enemies,  but  of  my  fellow 
countrymen.  I  will  work  and  die  on  any  plantation 
under  the  sun  rather  than  desert  the  service  in  which 
my  fathers  have  fought  and  won  glory.  I  cannot  forget 
that  I  am  a  Virginian  gentleman." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  said  Duval.  "  I  think  you  are  pig- 
headed." 

Poor  young  Drurie  smiled  faintly.  This  was  cer- 
tainly an  unusual  name  for  loyalty.  Then  a  thought 
came  to  him  that  awoke  hope  in  him  again.  How 
gladly  his  father  would  pay  money  to  save  him  and 
his  comrades  from  the  fate  that  threatened  them! 
And  that  money  was  what  Duval  wanted  was  plain  as 
a  pikestaff. 


276  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  My  father  is  rich  and  generous,"  he  said.  "  I 
offer  you  a  hundred  pounds  for  each  one  of  my  little 
company  —  a  thousand  pounds  in  all.  My  home  is 
in  Virginia;  and  I  promise  you,  on  the  word  of  a 
gentleman,  that  the  money  shall  be  paid  to  you  the 
very  day  you  put  us  ashore  in  that  country.  And 
you  shall  be  allowed  to  get  safely  away  again." 

Duval  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  sorry  to  seem  dis- 
obliging," he  replied,  "  but  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  wise  for  me  to  land  you  in  Virginia.  That  is  a 
dangerous  coast.  A  thousand  pounds  do  not  cover 
the  risks  —  even  if  your  generous  father  should  con- 
sider it  worth  his  while  to  pay  so  much  for  what  he 
had  already  recovered." 

He  smiled  slyly,  emptied  his  glass,  and  refilled  it. 

"  I  answer  for  my  father's  honour,"  cried  Drurie. 
"  He  will  pay  double  that  sum  of  money,  and  let  you 
go  as  free  as  the  wind.  Yes,  I  promise  you  two  thousand 
pounds ! " 

"  The  coast  of  Virginia  is  not  a  safe  place  for  Captain 
Duval  hi  his  crippled  schooner,"  replied  the  Canadian. 
"  I  have  sighted  three  English  war-ships  in  those 
waters  in  one  day's  run.  I  fear  that  the  money  would 
be  of  small  use  to  me  if  I  went  there  to  get  it." 

"  Then  land  us  somewhere  near  New  England," 
cried  Drurie.  "  You  may  be  sure  that  the  money  will 


Unsuspected  Fate  277 

be  sent  to  you  as  soon  as  I  can  communicate  with  my 
father.  Come,  captain!  Two  thousand  pounds  make  a 
goodly  bag  of  money." 

Duval  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Bah!  You  are 
brave,  my  friend  —  and  you  are  simple.  But  I  am 
not  a  fool!  Say  no  more  of  your  generous  father." 

He  rapped  sharply  on  the  table  with  his  knuckles. 
The  armed  sailor  opened  the  door  and  came  to  Drurie's 
side. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  are  so  pig-headed,  Captain 
Drurie,"  said  Duval. 

"  And  I  am  sorry  that  you  will  not  accept  my  word 
for  the  money,"  said  Drurie,  staring  haughtily  at  the 
big  Canadian. 

The  guard  led  him  away,  back  to  his  manacled 
comrades  in  the  dark  hold.  One  by  one  the  rest  of 
the  survivors  of  the  Brave  Adventure's  crew  were 
taken  to  Duval  and  offered  membership  in  the  schoon- 
er's company. 

Every  one  of  them,  except  a  lad  named  Stark,  gave 
the  same  answer  that  their  commander  had  given. 
After  that  there  were  nine  prisoners  in  the  hold  instead 
of  ten. 

As  the  schooner  drew  farther  southward,  the  air 
in  the  hold  became  almost  unbearable.  The  stench 
of  the  bilge  a->vash  only  a  few  feet  below  them  tortured 


278  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

even  their  seasoned  nostrils.  For  a  week  the  schooner 
rolled  idly  in  the  doldrums.  In  such  weather  not  so 
much  as  a  breath  of  wind  came  down  to  the  prisoners 
through  the  open  hatch. 

One  night  Drurie  crawled  under  the  square  eye 
of  the  hatch  and  lay  flat  on  his  back,  gazing  upward. 
A  touch  of  fever  was  in  his  blood.  He  counted  the 
large,  indifferent  stars  over  and  over,  trying  thus  to 
win  sleep  to  smarting  eyelids  and  oblivion  to  aching 
brain  and  body.  Despair  came  instead. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  sinking  of  the  brig,  his 
courage  failed  him  utterly.  He  groaned,  and  raised 
his  hands  to  his  face;  and  hi  the  movement  the  chain 
that  held  wrist  to  wrist  fell  heavily  across  his  chin. 
At  that,  sudden  anger  revived  his  spirit.  He  sat  up 
and  stared  Into  the  dark. 

"  Lads,"  he  cried,  "  we  are  not  beaten  so  long  as 
there  is  life  In  us.  But  Stark!  Stark  is  in  a  worse 
plight  than  the  dead  men  under  the  ice!  These  dogs 
will  sell  us  to  lesser  dogs  —  and  these  irons  will  be 
struck  from  us  so  that  wre  may  work  in  the  fields. 
Strengthen  your  hearts  for  that  day,  lads  —  there'll 
be  cold  iron  in  our  hands  then  instead  of  on  our  wrists." 

When  Drurie  awoke,  the  sudden  tropic  morning 
was  aflare  across  the  square  of  the  hatchway.  That 
day  the  schooner  won  clear  of  the  regions  of  calm. 


Unsuspected  Fate  279 

All  her  sails  were  spread  to  the  steady  wind,  and  she 
lay  over  with  a  bar  of  white  foam  under  her  forefoot 
and  the  furrows  of  her  wake  diverging  far  astern. 

Duval  had  the  captives  brought  on  deck  for  an 
airing.  A  healthy  slave  brings  a  better  price  than  a  sick 
one.  They  sat  forward,  in  the  shade  of  the  headsails, 
and  drank  in  the  glitter  and  swing  of  wind  and  sea. 
The  rush  of  waters  along  the  driving  hull,  the  vision 
of  straining  canvas,  and  the  smell  of  pitch  melting  in 
the  seams  revived  hope  in  their  courageous  breasts. 

They  remembered  with  a  glow  of  pride  what  a 
great  fight  they  had  made  against  fearful  odds;  and 
the  certainty  grew  in  their  hearts  that  they  should 
fight  again.  Those  who  could  moved  up  and  down 
the  deck;  and  the  homely  sights  of  shipboard  —  the 
smoking  galley,  the  captain's  wash  flying  from  a  line, 
and  the  fellow  aloft  in  a  boatswain's  chair  scraping  the 
maintopmast  —  awoke  the  zest  of  life  in  them.  The 
Frenchmen  grinned  at  them,  and  gave  them  tobacco 
and  lime-juice.  Some  of  them  showed  their  wounds 
to  the  English  with  the  greatest  good-humour.  They 
seemed  to  recall  the  desperate  battle  only  as  a  joke. 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  voyage  the  prisoners 
were  allowed  to  take  an  airing  on  the  deck  every  day. 
Also,  they  were  well  treated  in  the  matter  of  food  and 
drink.  But  Duval  kept  away  from  them.  He  did  not 


280  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

feel  quite  at  ease  when  Drurie  was  looking  at  him. 
The  surgeon  continued  to  tend  such  of  the  prisoners 
as  required  his  services.  Soon  the  wounds  were  all 
healed,  and  Nicholas,  with  his  fever,  was  the  only  man 
on  the  sick-list. 

The  schooner  won  to  that  fairy  sea.  Every  day  new 
landfalls  were  made.  Dolphins  flashed  about  her 
bows,  and  the  blue  water  astern  was  cut  by  low,  black 
trysails,  the  dorsal  fins  of  sharks,  cruising  back  and 
forth.  Flying-fish  broke  from  the  waves  in  silver 
showers,  skimmed  away  until  they  were  but  specks 
against  the  blue,  and  splashed  again  into  the  waves. 
The  schooner  crowded  away  from  every  sail  she 
sighted.  Once  she  ran  so  close  to  a  little  French  island 
that  the  men  could  count  the  red  roofs  of  a  village 
nestled  between  the  seaward  palms  and  the  timbered 
shoulders  of  the  mountain-cone.  They  could  see  brown 
children  at  play  on  the  lilac  sand. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ISOBEL   LOOKS    FROM  HER   WINDOW 

CAPTAIN  DENIS  ST.  OVIDE  DUVAL  anchored  his 
schooner  outside  the  reef  of  the  little  island  of  Madiana 
and  signalled  for  the  don  to  come  aboard.  They  were 
supposed  to  be  on  friendly  terms,  this  lawless  Canadian 
and  this  nameless  Spaniard.  For  all  that,  the  don 
would  not  trust  himself  aboard  the  schooner.  So  Duval, 
accompanied  by  one  of  his  officers  and  four  armed  men, 
went  ashore.  The  don  received  him  with  many  signs 
of  a  delight  which  he  did  not  feel.  To  tell  the  truth, 
he  was  afraid  of  the  Canadian. 

"  I  have  nine  white  slaves  for  you,"  said  Duval. 
"  Two  gentlemen  and  seven  seamen.  Do  you  want 
them,  my  friend?  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  I  am  short  of  hands.  Of  what 
breed  are  they?"  replied  the  don.  He  would  have 
bought  the  Frenchman's  windlass  or  his  spare  set 
of  sails  if  asked  —  anything  to  humour  the  dangerous 
fellow  and  get  him  speedily  away  from  the  island. 

"  One  is  a  Spaniard,  or  something  of  that  kind. 

281 


282  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

The  others  are  English  to  a  man,"  replied  Duval 
insolently. 

The  proprietor  of  the  island  paid  no  attention  to 
the  note  of  insolence  in  the  other's  voice  and  manner. 
"  Send  for  them,  captain.  Bring  them  ashore  and 
let  me  glance  them  over,"  he  cried  as  if  he  could 
scarcely  contain  his  delight  at  the  prospect  of  buying 
prisoners  from  the  Canadian. 

Yet  he  knew  that  he  would  have  to  pay  a  heavy 
price  for  the  fellows.  Yes,  a  heavy  price.  Had  he 
known  how  heavy,  I  think  he  would  have  given  Duval 
all  his  fortune  to  carry  them  away. 

Irons  were  put  on  the  prisoners'  legs  for  the  first 
time,  and  they  were  brought  ashore.  The  don  glanced 
them  over  with  a  sinister  smile.  He  was  wishing  that 
Duval  was  one  of  them. 

He  walked  up  to  Cremona.  "  You  are  a  Spaniard," 
he  said. 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  replied  Cremona.  "I  am  an 
English  gentleman." 

The  don  drew  back  as  if  he  had  been  stung.  "  You'll 
die  for  that,"  he  cried.  "  Your  great  carcass  will  rot 
in  the  sun  for  that,  you  fool." 

Duval  and  his  fellows  laughed  long  and  loud. 
"  Yes,  he  is  a  gentleman,  whatever  country  bred  him," 
said  the  Frenchman.  "  Two  of  them  are  men  of 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     283 

breeding,  as  I  told  you.  I  had  no  trouble  with  them, 
for  I  know  how  to  treat  gentlemen.  It  is  a  pity  you 
do,  not  understand  the  breed." 

The  don  found  that  a  hard  mouthful  to  swallow, 
but  he  swallowed  it. 

Isobel  closed  the  lower  shutters  of  her  window  and 
peeped  out  between  the  slats  at  the  pitiful  procession 
that  came  slowly  up  from  the  sand.  She  had  been 
watching  the  schooner  for  some  time  and  the  men  on 
the  shore,  wondering  if  the  visit  of  this  fine  craft 
would  bring  any  change  in  her  dreary  life.  As  the 
strangers  came  nearer,  and  she  saw  that  the  main 
body  of  them  were  ironed  at  wrist  and  leg,  she  under- 
stood the  reason  of  the  schooner's  visit,  and  her  heart 
sank. 

The  procession  passed  close  to  the  front  of  the  house. 
Isobel  looked  down  upon  the  ragged,  weary  fellows 
as  they  toiled  along  through  the  beating  sunlight. 
Suddenly  her  attention  was  caught  by  the  gallant, 
familiar  bearing  of  one  of  the  shackled  men.  A  low 
cry  escaped  her  —  and,  as  if  he  had  heard  the  cry,  the 
man  looked  up.  She  gazed  down,  horror-stricken, 
into  the  face  of  her  lover  —  into  the  thin,  undaunted 
face  of  Francis  Drurie.  Then  a  cloud  of  fire  surged 
across  her  vision. 

Isobel  recovered  her  senses  quickly.    At  that  moment 


284  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

her  uncle  entered  the  room.  He  came  close  to  her  and 
took  her  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"  I  want  you  to  keep  out  of  sight  until  that  schooner 
gets  her  anchor  up,"  he  whispered.  "  She  is  a  French 
pirate.  Her  captain  is  now  hi  the  dining-room.  If 
he  catches  sight  of  you  —  why,  you  will  wish  that  you 
were  still  living  quietly  with  me." 

The  girl  promised  to  keep  out  of  the  pirate's  sight. 
Alcazardo  left  her  after  a  final  warning  to  keep  to 
her  room  and  not  to  open  the  shutters  of  her  windows. 
Then  she  threw  herself  down  upon  the  bed  and  wept. 

What  was  she  to  do  ?  She  knew  to  what  a  place  her 
lover  had  been  brought,  but  her  heart  told  her  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  let  him  know  of  her  presence 
on  the  island  or  to  let  her  uncle  suspect  Drurie's 
identity.  She  prayed  the  knowledge  be  kept  from  him. 
To  what  depths  of  torture  it  might  inspire  him,  his 
own  black  heart  alone  could  say.  After  the  storm  of 
tears,  her  mind  was  clear.  She  saw  that  she  must  now 
work  cunningly  and  swiftly  toward  Alcazardo's  over- 
throw. 

She  realized  that  she  could  not  disclose  her  presence 
to  her  lover,  until  the  don's  power  was  broken,  without 
danger  to  his  life.  He  would  spring  upon  the  fellow, 
bent  upon  her  rescue,  and  die  miserably  and  uselessly. 
Her  most  terrible  fear  was  that  the  don  might  learn 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     285 

that  one  of  his  new  slaves  was  none  other  than  Francis 
Drurie,  the  Virginian.  Perhaps  he  already  knew  it. 
Her  mind  tortured  her  with  suppositions  as  to  what  the 
monster  would  do  in  such  a  case. 

He  would  see,  in  a  flash,  the  end  of  his  dream  —  a 
dream  which  the  girl  had  artfully  encouraged  —  of 
going  back  to  Virginia  some  day  and  living  the  life  of 
a  prosperous,  godly  gentleman.  If  he  thought  that 
she  had  not  seen  her  lover,  might  he  not  kill  him  im- 
mediately, and  so  look  to  stand  as  firmly  hi  her  favour 
then  as  before  ?  What  a  thought !  Again,  if  he  knew 
that  the  girl  had  seen  the  Virginian,  he  would  have  no 
more  use  for  her.  She  trembled  at  thought  of  what 
her  fate  might  be. 

In  the  dining-room  Duval  and  the  don  drank  wine 
and  bartered.  At  last  the  don  paid  over  the  exorbitant 
sum  demanded  by  the  Canadian  for  the  nine  prisoners. 
Then  he  began  to  ask  questions. 

"  What  ship  did  these  fellows  belong  to  ? "  he 
asked. 

Now,  there  was  no  reason  hi  the  world  why  Duval 
should  not  tell  the  Spaniard  what  he  knew  of  the 
truth,  but,  not  liking  the  fellow,  his  first  thought  was 
to  lie  to  him. 

"  They  came  out  of  a  brig  I  captured  off  the  coast 
of  Newfoundland,"  he  said.  "  You  will  find  them 


286  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

hardy  lads.  And  two  of  them,  as  I  have  told  you,  are 
gentlemen." 

"  And  what  are  the  names  of  those  two  ?  "  asked 
the  don. 

"  Bah!  What  do  I  know  of  the  names  of  my  pris- 
oners ?  "  replied  Duval. 

"  Slaves  require  no  names,"  agreed  the  don. 

He  poured  more  wine  for  his  guest  and  himself. 
He  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  the  Canadian  out  of 
the  house,  for  the  fellow  had  an  uncomfortable  way 
of  staring  at  the  box  from  which  he  had  just  been  paid 
for  the  slaves,  and  of  looking  at  the  silver  on  the  side- 
board with  calculating  eyes.  By  the  time  Duval  was 
ready  to  go  back  to  his  ship  the  don  had  forgotten  the 
mild  curiosity  he  had  once  entertained  regarding  the 
names  of  the  men  he  had  bought  for  so  much  good 
gold. 

At  last  the  schooner  got  her  anchor  up  and  slipped 
away,  out  of  sight  of  the  thankful  Spaniard  and  the 
Island  of  Madiana.  She  ran  down  the  narrow  sea 
between  the  soaring  cones  of  Martinique  and  Dominica, 
and  southward,  still  past  island-holdings  of  Spain, 
France,  England,  and  Holland.  There  she  gathered 
easy  spoil;  and  all  the  while  her  commander  planned 
a  brave  return  against  his  old  enemies  in  the  smoky 
seas  of  the  north.  But  on  his  way  to  the  north  he 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     287 

would  stop  at  a  certain  small,  unprotected  island  and 
see  what  the  don's  fortune  was  worth.  No  doubt  the 
yellow-faced  old  devil  had  the  price  of  more  than  one 
good  ship  hidden  away. 

To  the  survivors  of  the  Brave  Adventure  the  change 
from  Duval's  schooner  to  the  don's  island  did  not  seem 
at  first  to  be  a  change  for  the  better.  The  don  was  full 
of  cruelty.  He  gave  his  mind  to  the  practice  of  causing 
pain,  as  another  man  would  to  some  absorbing  sport. 
He  conceived  the  torture  to  suit  the  particular  case  in 
hand,  considering  the  temperament  and  constitution 
of  his  victims  with  scientific  nicety.  His  slaves  stood 
in  such  terror  of  him  that  fear  hid  their  hatred,  even 
from  themselves.  He  filled  every  day  of  their  miserable 
lives  with  such  a  dread  and  apprehension  that  many 
of  them,  seeing  no  other  way  of  escape,  opened  for 
themselves  the  door  of  death.  If  the  victim  in  such  a 
case  happened  to  be  old,  feeble,  or  diseased,  the  word 
of  his  self-destruction  was  received  by  the  don  with 
every  sign  of  satisfaction;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  suicide  had  been  a  valuable  slave,  he  fell  into  the 
most  furious  transports  of  temper.  On  such  an  occasion 
he  had  gone  so  far  as  to  have  one  of  his  trusted  over- 
seers tied  up  and  flogged.  The  don  promised  himself 
a  deal  of  diversion  at  the  expense  of  his  new  English 
slaves.  As  they  were  of  a  proud  and  courageous  race, 


288  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

and  the  children  of  generations  of  freemen,  subtle 
cruelty  would  not  be  lost  upon  them.  As  for  his  other 
white  slaves  —  why,  like  the  blacks,  they  had  become 
so  dispirited  that  they  could  only  be  aroused  to  suffering 
by  physical  pain.  But  this  new  importation?  Ah! 
he  would  flay  their  pride  as  well  as  their  backs.  He 
would  crush  them  to  the  soil;  break  their  manhood; 
set  their  natures  back  a  thousand  years. 

The  wrists  of  the  new  slaves  were  freed,  but  the 
irons  were  kept  on  their  legs.  They  were  given  wide 
hats  of  native  straw,  with  the  crowns  filled  with  leaves 
so  that  the  sun  would  not  strike  them  dead.  They 
were  driven  like  cattle  down  a  track,  between 
bananas  and  plantains,  to  a  hillside  field  of  young 
canes.  Each  was  given  a  hoe,  of  unwieldy  shape 
and  extraordinary  weight,  and  was  directed  by  fierce 
gestures  to  pulverize  the  sun-baked  clods  of  soil  about 
the  plants. 

Drurie  set  an  example  manfully,  and  the  others  fol- 
lowed it,  determined  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  business 
for  just  so  long  as  it  was  necessary.  While  their  beloved 
captain  worked,  they  would  work;  and  when  he  fought, 
they  would  fight.  They  suffered  as  much  from  his 
wounds  and  his  weariness  as  from  their  own. 

After  two  hours  of  steady  work,  the  lad,  Nicholas, 
reeled  and  fell.  An  overseer  shouted  at  him  and 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     289 

cracked  the  knotted,  rawhide  lash  of  his  whip.  Poor 
Nicholas  tried  to  regain  his  feet;  tried  to  pick  up  the 
hoe,  only  to  fall  again  on  hands  and  knees,  and  so 
crouch  helpless,  close  to  the  warm  earth.  The  overseer 
cursed  furiously. 

Stepping  past  several  of  the  other  labourers,  who 
had  paused  hi  their  work  to  gaze  in  pity  and  dismay 
at  their  fallen  comrade,  he  laid  his  whip,  full-swung, 
across  the  panting  body.  Nicholas  flinched  and 
groaned.  The  fellow  flung  the  whip  back  for  another 
blow;  but  before  he  could  administer  it,  Drurie  had 
him  by  the  throat,  and  all  the  new  slaves  were  jumping 
toward  him  on  their  shackled  feet.  He  let  fall  the 
whip,  tore  himself  clear  of  the  choking  fingers,  and 
fled. 

The  don's  new  slaves  spent  that  night  on  an  earthen 
floor,  chained  to  the  timbers  of  a  foul  hut.  Young 
Nicholas  was  in  a  raging  fever.  He  rolled  from  side 
to  side,  muttered  continuously,  and  pulled  at  his 
shackles.  Despair  and  madness  were  in  that  black 
hut;  and  death  lurked  without  in  the  sickening,  black 
night,  where  a  mulatto  driver  squatted  with  a  musket 
across  his  knees. 

But  Drurie's  courageous  soul  was  able  to  derive 
some  hope  from  the  horrors  of  the  past  day.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  either  death  or  a  more  desirable  form  of 


290  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

freedom  must  soon  be  theirs,  for  already  every  man 
of  them  had  tasted  the  lash,  and  they  had  all  openly 
attacked  their  taskmaster.  This  spirit  meant  a  change 
of  some  kind  —  perhaps  death,  perhaps  freedom. 
And  why  not  freedom  ? 

Surely  these  other  slaves  that  he  had  seen  suffering 
in  the  fields  were  ready  to  rise!  A  sudden  attack,  a 
quick  death  for  some,  and  life  for  more.  And  then,  if 
he  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  one  of  the  living,  the 
search  for  Isobel  and  her  uncle.  He  recalled  the  fact 
that  one  of  the  overseers  had  come  but  slowly  to  help 
subdue  the  revolt  of  the  morning,  and  that,  though  he 
had  snapped  his  whip  diligently  enough,  he  had  not 
struck  any  of  the  slaves.  There  was  hope  in  that, 
surely. 

If  that  overseer  could  be  won  to  his  side,  it  would 
be  no  great  matter  to  put  an  end  to  the  don's  reign  on 
the  island.  Then  he  remembered  the  vision  that  had 
come  to  him  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure.  With  hope 
firm  in  his  heart,  he  at  last  fell  asleep.  He  did  not 
know  how  long  he  had  been  unconscious,  when  a 
light  touch  on  his  shoulder  awoke  him.  He  felt  that 
some  one  stooped  close  to  him. 

"  Who's  there?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Hush,"  came  the  guarded  reply. 

He  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  the  rim  of  a  cool 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window 


cup  against  his  lips.  He  drank  eagerly;  but  the  cup 
was  not  held  straight,  and  as  much  of  the  water  spilled 
over  his  chin  and  breast  as  passed  down  his  parched 
throat.  But  it  felt  delicious  wherever  it  touched  him. 
At  last  the  sweet  cup  was  withdrawn. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  whispered.  The  impact  of 
a  light,  soft-shod  foot  sounded  twice  on  the  earthen 
floor.  He  turned  on  his  side  and  listened. 

There  was  only  a  sound  of  quiet  breathing  in  the 
dark.  Even  Nicholas  had  ceased  his  restless  muttering. 
The  silence  of  peace  filled  the  black  hut  as  if  an  angel 
had  soothed  it. 

In  the  garden,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  from  the 
hut  and  the  yard,  two  persons  whispered  together. 

One  was  Isobel,  the  supposed  daughter  of  the  don; 
the  other  was  Laroche,  the  half-caste  overseer  whom 
the  don  had  once  flogged. 

"  When  the  fight  is  well  begun,  they  will  all  be  brave 
enough;  but  they  fear  the  don  worse  than  the  devil 
himself,"  said  Laroche. 

"  It  must  be  planned  for  the  night  after  to-morrow," 
whispered  the  lady.  "  You  and  Valois  will  offer  to 
take  the  places  of  the  guards.  Give  them  rum  and  a 
little  of  this  money." 

Then  they  parted.  The  girl  moved  toward  the  house. 
Laroche  returned  through  the  gate  in  the  wall. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  PLEASANT   TIME   BEFORE   BREAKFAST 

VERY  early  in  the  morning,  before  any  food  was  served 
to  them,  the  nine  new  slaves  were  lined  up  in  the  en- 
closed yard  in  front  of  the  hut  in  which  they  had  spent 
the  night.  The  two  overseers  who  marshalled  them 
had  pistols  in  their  belts  as  well  as  whips  in  their  hands. 
Laroche  was  not  one  of  the  two.  Nicholas  was  in  the 
line,  leaning  weakly  against  one  of  his  comrades. 
Now  and  then  a  leg-iron  clanked.  Otherwise,  the 
slaves  and  their  guards  waited  in  silence  —  the  slaves 
waiting  for  they  knew  not  what.  Over  one  wall  they 
saw  the  green  crests  of  palms  and  the  red-tiled  roof 
of  the  house.  Over  another  loomed  the  stone  towrer 
of  the  windmill.  A  draft  of  sea  air  came  fanning  down 
to  them,  and  then-  hearts  sickened  with  longing  for 
deck  and  spar. 

A  door  in  the  wall,  over  which  the  palms  could  be 
seen,  opened  suddenly,  and  the  don  stepped  into  the 
yard.  He  was  dressed  in  loose  white  linen,  a  hat  of 
native  straw,  and  a  sash  of  red  silk  around  his  waist. 

292 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast    293 

On  his  bare  feet  he  wore  heelless  slippers  of  straw. 
He  halted  a  few  paces  from  the  prisoners  and  looked 
them  over  with  deliberate  menace.  Every  man  of  them, 
save  Nicholas,  met  the  black  eyes  fearlessly.  Nicholas, 
poor  lad,  was  not  even  aware  of  the  don's  presence. 

The  Spaniard  stared  at  Drurie  with  what  seemed 
exaggerated  intentness,  as  if  with  his  glance  alone  he 
would  force  the  younger  and  smaller  man  to  some  show 
of  weakness  or  fear.  But  in  the  clear  blue  eyes  and 
thin  face  he  saw  a  spirit  that  challenged  and  scorned 
him.  He  turned  to  the  fellow  whose  throat  had  been 
endangered  by  Drurie's  fingers,  and  put  a  brief  question 
in  Spanish.  For  answer,  the  overseer  pointed  at  the 
Virginian. 

"  You  and  your  comrades  are  evidently  of  the  lawless 
class  of  English,"  said  the  don,  leering  at  Drurie. 
"  I  know  the  country.  The  men  are  all  either  cringing 
shopkeepers  or  lawless  ruffians.  The  women!  Bah! 
High  and  low,  they  are  all  equally  without  virtue." 

"  You  are  a  liar!  "  said  Drurie. 

"  You  are  a  dirty  dog!  "  cried  Cremona. 

The  don's  leer  deepened.  "  Lawlessness  is  a  thing 
I  dare  not  allow  on  this  island,"  he  said.  "  We  live 
in  peace  and  harmony  here.  I  do  not  like  to  have 
my  slaves  attempt  to  murder  the  men  I  set  over 
them." 


294  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

He  turned  to  the  fellow  whom  Drurie  had  attacked 
on  the  previous  day.  "  As  we  are  short  of  hands," 
he  said  in  Spanish,  "  and  the  crop  is  coming  on,  we 
cannot  give  them  as  much  as  I  should  like  just  now. 
Ten  lashes  apiece  will  do  for  to-day.  Make  haste, 
for  I  have  not  yet  had  my  coffee." 

There  were  four  iron  rings  in  the  wall  —  two  high 
up,  two  close  to  the  ground.  One  of  the  overseers 
grabbed  Drurie  by  the  shoulder  and  began  to  push 
him  across  the  yard  toward  the  wall. 

"Not  so  fast!"  cried  the  don.  "We'll  serve  our 
two  fine  gentlemen  last  of  all.  They'll  enjoy  watching 
the  sport." 

So  the  ruffian  released  the  Virginian  and  seized  the 
man  who  stood  next  in  line.  The  poor  fellow  did  not 
resist,  though  his  hands  were  free.  In  a  trice  he  was 
tied  to  the  rings  in  the  wall  by  wrists  and  ankles.  His 
tattered  shirt  was  torn  roughly  from  his  back.  The 
short-stocked,  long-lashed  whip  was  swung  back,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  other  overseer  presented  his 
pistols  —  one  at  Drurie  and  one  at  Cremona.  The 
lashes  whistled  in  the  air  and  descended  upon  the 
flinching  back.  The  don  began  to  count  aloud.  Again 
the  lashes  swooped  and  fell.  Again  —  and  this  time 
the  blood  sprang  after  the  wire-tipped  thongs,  in  dark 
lines  across  the  white  back.  And  so  on,  until  ten 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast    29,5 

strokes  had  been  methodically  given  and  as  methodi- 
cally counted. 

Then,  poor  Tyler  was  loosened  from  the  wall,  a 
bucketful  of  water  was  sloshed  over  his  back  and  some 
sort  of  ointment  was  applied  to  the  bruised  and  bleeding 
flesh.  When  the  cords  were  untied  he  fell  to  the  ground 
in  a  dead  faint.  He  was  carried  into  the  hut  by  two 
negro  slaves;  and  as  soon  as  he  regained  consciousness 
a  clean  shirt  was  put  upon  him,  and  coffee  and  food 
were  given  him.  It  was  important  that  he  should  be 
able  to  do  his  work,  for  this  was  a  busy  season  of  the 
year  on  the  little  island.  The  canes  in  sixty  acres  of 
the  plantation  were  now  ready  for  the  knives  of  the 
reapers,  and,  along  with  the  harvesting  and  boiling, 
many  acres  of  young  canes  had  still  to  be  cultivated. 

The  two  overseers  took  turn  and  turn  about  at 
applying  the  whip  to  the  backs  of  the  English  mariners. 
The  don  counted  the  strokes  and  frequently  cried  for 
more  haste,  as  he  had  not  yet  partaken  of  his  first 
breakfast.  When  Nicholas  was  dragged  to  the  wall, 
Drurie  protested  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  You  fiend/'  he  cried  at  the  don,  "  can't  you  see  that 
ten  lashes  will  kill  him  ?  He  is  already  all  but  dead  with 
the  fever." 

The  don  walked  over  to  Nicholas  and  examined  him 
closely.  "  Yes,  you  are  right,"  he  said  coolly.  "  The 


296  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

fellow  cost  me  money  —  and,  also,  I  am  short  of  hands. 
It  will  be  a  month's  time,  perhaps,  before  I  can  afford 
to  give  any  of  you  your  full  measure  of  correc- 
tion." 

The  Virginian's  only  reply  was  a  look  of  such 
unutterable  hate  and  scorn  that  the  don  flushed  under 
his  swarthy  skin. 

Last  of  all,  Drurie  was  untied  from  the  wall  and 
allowed  to  return  to  the  hut.  He  walked  without 
assistance,  clanking  the  chain  between  his  feet.  His 
face  was  luminous  with  a  desperate  pallor,  and  blood 
trickled  down  his  lean  back.  He  accepted  the  washing 
and  dressing  without  a  word,  and  ate  bravely  when 
food  was  brought  to  him.  He  drained  his  bowl  of 
coffee  to  the  last  drop  and  then  looked  at  his  men, 
his  glance  passing  tenderly  from  face  to  face. 

"  Keep  up  your  courage,  lads,"  said  he,  "  for  a  low 
heart  breeds  fever  —  and  fever  is  an  enemy  from  whom 
I  cannot  deliver  you.  As  for  this  swine  who  thinks 
he  owns  us !  Lads,  as  surely  as  I  was  bred  in  Virginia, 
I'll  show  him  to  you  before  many  days  are  gone,  with 
a  yard  of  iron  through  his  belly." 

Having  gloated  over  the  sight  of  Drurie's  lacerated 
back  until  the  gloom  of  the  hut  hid  it  from  him,  the 
planter  passed  again  through  the  door  in  the  wall  by 
which  he  had  entered  the  yard.  By  only  the  width 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast    297 

of  one  step  —  by  the  thickness  of  the  wall  —  was  the 
whipping-place  separated  from  a  garden  paradise. 
In  the  one  were  glaring  sunshine,  terror,  iron,  and  little 
drops  of  blood.  In  the  other  were  blending  of  shadow 
and  sunlight,  rustling  of  high  foliage,  great  blooms  of 
hybiscus,  and  petals  of  red  roses  on  the  ground. 

But  the  don  was  indifferent  to  the  beauty  of  the  one 
as  to  the  ugliness  of  the  other.  He  needed  a  garden. 
Therefore,  the  palms  singing  in  the  sea-breeze,  lemon- 
trees  leaning  above  benches  of  carved  stone,  along 
which  green  lizards  darted  in  their  play;  therefore,  the 
bells  of  the  hybiscus  flowers  and  the  flaring  blooms  of 
the  flambeau-trees;  therefore,  the  roses  budding  and 
blowing.  He  must  whip  his  slaves;  and,  therefore,  the 
unshaded  yard,  the  high  wall,  and  the  rings  in  the 
masonry. 

Alcazardo  passed  under  the  green  branches  and 
flaring  blooms  and  ascended  a  flight  of  steps  to  the 
gallery  of  his  house.  In  the  cool  shade  stood  a  table 
set  for  two.  Here  were  white  linen  and  gleaming 
silver.  An  old  man  stood  beside  the  table. 

"  Tell  the  senorita  that  I  am  ready,"  ordered  the 
doii.  The  old  man  hurried  away. 

In  a  moment  Isobel  appeared,  her  face  as  white  as 
the  linen  on  the  table  and  her  eyes  gleaming  with 
tears.  Her  uncle  sneered  at  her  openly. 


298  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  Well,  my  daughter,  what  is  the  trouble  with  you?  " 
he  asked,  with  mocking  tenderness  in  his  voice. 

The  girl  could  not  find  courage  to  meet  his  cruel, 
searching  regard.  She  was  afraid  that  he  might  read 
what  was  in  her  heart  —  the  hate,  the  contempt,  the 
crouching  fury  that  was  so  soon  to  strike. 

"  I  am  not  well,"  she  faltered.  "  I  feel  feverish  and 
weak.  I  yearn  for  my  home  in  Virginia." 

He   accepted   this   statement   without   a   suspicion. 
"  You  must  take  some  quinine  and  keep  out  of  the 
sun,"  he  said.    "  And  as  for  your  home  in  Virginia  — 
well,  you'll  get  there  all  in  good  time,  my  dear." 

While  eight  of  the  new  slaves  toiled  in  the  fields, 
and  the  lad  Nicholas  lay  raving  in  the  dark  hut,  Isobel 
and  the  fellow  Laroche  went  steadily  about  their  hidden 
work. 

Before  evening  the  little  schooner  Twelve  Apostles 
put  into  the  lagoon,  with  a  cargo  of  stores  for  the 
island.  The  hearts  of  Isobel  and  Laroche  lifted  at  the 
sight  of  her. 

At  last  night  came,  and  the  men  of  the  Brave  Adven- 
ture dragged  themselves  back  to  the  hut.  They  were 
chained  in  their  places  and  fed.  Drurie  saw  that  the 
man  on  guard  was  the  same  fellow  who  had  withheld 
his  hand  during  the  brief  revolt  of  the  previous  day. 
He  stood  in  the  door  of  the  hut,  a  black  bulk  against 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast    299 

the  paler  dark  of  the  early  night.  The  lads  on  the 
earthen  floor,  with  iron  hi  their  souls  as  well  as  on 
their  limbs,  were  desperate.  Even  Cremona  had  lost 
all  sense  of  caution.  They  begged  Drurie  to  let  them 
fight  as  soon  as  they  were  unchained  hi  the  morning. 

"  Let  us  ease  our  souls  a  bit,  sir,  afore  we  die," 
pleaded  Tyler.  "  'Twould  be  like  liquor  to  us,  sir, 
to  kill  some  o'  these  fiends." 

"If  we  do  not  fight  soon,  we'll  have  no  strength 
to  fight  at  all,"  said  Cremona. 

Before  Drurie  could  answer,  the  guard  turned  and 
stepped  close  to  him,  and  whispered  something  hi 
Spanish. 

"  Tell  it  to  me,"  said  Cremona.    "  I  know  the  talk." 

Laroche  moved  to  Cremona's  side.  "  You  must  wait 
until  to-morrow  night,"  he  whispered.  "  Then  I  will 
remove  the  chains  and  free  your  hands  and  your  feet 
and  give  you  each  a  cutlass.  The  senorita  and  I  have 
arranged  this.  The  other  slaves  are  cowards;  but  they 
will  rise  when  they  know  that  you  are  already  creeping 
upon  the  house.  We  shall  kill  the  don  and  capture  the 
schooner." 

Cremona  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his 
ears. 

"  Are  you  honest  hi  this  —  or  is  it  some  new  tor- 
ture? "  he  asked. 


300  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Laroche  drew  a  crucifix  from  his  breast  and  swore 
a  great  oath  that  he  meant  every  word  of  what  he  had 
said. 

"  Then  you  shall  be  well  paid  for  it,  my  friend. 
The  captain  is  a  rich  man,  and  will  be  generous  with 
you,"  said  Cremona. 

"  Nay,  I  want  no  money  from  you,"  replied  Laroche. 
"  The  senorita  has  promised  me  an  honourable  position 
and  a  sum  of  money  —  but  my  reward  will  be  to  see 
the  blood  of  that  black  dog  spurting  out." 

"  Who  is  this  senorita?  "  asked  Cremona. 

"  They  call  her  the  don's  daughter,"  whispered 
Laroche.  "  But  I  do  not  think  this  is  so,  for  she  hates 
the  dog  even  as  you  and  I  hate  him.  We  have  had  no 
courage  to  strike;  but  when  you  came,  and  the  captain 
there  looked  as  if  he  feared  the  don  no  more  than  a  dead 
fish,  then  we  found  our  courage.  So  you  must  keep  your 
hearts  covered  until  I  come  to  you  to-morrow  night." 

Without  another  word,  the  overseer  went  noiselessly 
back  to  the  door  of  the  hut,  stood  there  a  few  moments 
with  his  musket  across  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and 
then  stepped  into  the  yard.  From  somewhere  in  the 
distance  came  the  voices  of  the  crew  of  the  little 
schooner.  The  fellows  were  singing  over  their  liquor. 

Cremona  crawled  as  close  to  Drurie  as  his  chain 
would  allow  and  whispered  him  the  story  of  their 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast    301 

promised  deliverance.  And  so,  in  fragments,  it  passed 
from  one  to  another  of  the  battered  company.  It  put 
new  life  into  them,  and  went  to  their  heads  like  wine. 
Again  the  world  was  theirs,  and  they  saw  again  the 
tall  spars  and  white  sails  of  ships  and  the  hills  and 
fields  of  their  distant  homes.  The  glad  news  set  all 
hearts  aglow  with  hope,  save  the  heart  of  the  lad 
Nicholas.  He,  poor  fellow,  had  died  quietly  even  while 
the  overseer  whispered  in  Cremona's  ear. 

At  last  sleep  came  to  them,  and  silence  filled  that 
black  hut  where  eight  living  men  and  one  dead  man 
lay  chained  on  the  earthen  floor.  Throughout  the 
long  night  Drurie  dreamed  of  Isobel  and  Virginia. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  RISING 

WHEN  Alcazardo  heard  next  morning  that  one  of 
his  new  slaves  was  dead,  he  fell  into  a  fit  of  ungovern- 
able fury.  He  had  spared  the  fellow  a  whipping  so 
that  he  might  live  —  and,  behold,  the  rascal  had  died, 
thus  cheating  the  unfortunate  don  of  the  pleasure  of 
counting  ten  more  lashes  as  well  as  of  the  price  paid 
to  Duval.  He  raved  like  a  madman;  and  as  for  the 
fellow  who  brought  him  the  news,  he  received  a  blow 
on  the  side  of  the  head  from  a  candlestick  that  laid 
him  flat  for  half  the  day. 

Then  the  don  set  out  for  the  field  in  which  the  English 
slaves  were  at  work.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  long  and 
limber  stick  of  the  West  Indian  vine  called  supple- 
jack. Upon  reaching  the  toiling,  weary  fellows,  he 
laid  about  him  cruelly,  striking  their  aching  legs  and 
raw  backs  with  merciless,  slashing  cuts. 

"  I'll  soon  have  you  all  on  the  dunghill  where  your 
shipmate  was  thrown  this  morning,"  he  cried. 

At  that,  the  Virginian's  rage  overcame  his  caution. 
302 


The  Rising  303 

He  straightened  himself  and  looked  the  don  up  and 
down.  "You  shameless  cur!  The  only  white  man 
you  are  not  afraid  of  is  a  dead  one,"  he  cried. 

Alcazardo  sprang  at  him  and  struck  him  fair  across 

the  face  with  the  heavy,  fibrous  stick.    Twice  he  struck 

—  and  at  the  second  blow  Drurie  fell  without  a  sound. 

When  Drurie  recovered  consciousness  it  was  to  find 
himself  on  the  earthen  floor  of  the  hut.  His  face  and 
left  eye  ached  with  a  dull  throbbing  that,  at  the  slightest 
movement,  sprang  to  excruciating  activity.  He  lifted 
his  hand  cautiously  and  felt  that  his  head  and  face 
were  generously  bandaged  in  damp  cloths.  At  the 
discovery,  thought  of  the  senorita,  of  whom  the  over- 
seer had  spoken,  came  to  him.  The  cloths  that  bound 
head  and  eyes  were  of  fine  linen,  and  a  subtle  fragrance 
of  lavender  exhaled  from  them.  An  overseer  would 
have  bandaged  his  wounds  with  very  different  material, 
he  reflected.  Could  it  be  that  the  senorita,  that  mys- 
terious and  merciful  being,  had  tended  him  with  her 
own  hands?  How  strongly,  sweetly  familiar  this  scent 
of  lavender! 

Francis  Drurie  felt  a  light,  light  touch  on  his  hand. 
It  brought  him  back  from  a  sweet  half  dream  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

"  You  must  drink  this,"  whispered  a  muffled  voice 
at  his  ear.  He  felt  a  tender  arm  behind  his  head  and 


304  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

the  cool  rim  of  a  cup  against  his  lips.    He  drank  the 
wine  and  water,  helpless  and  obedient  as  a  child. 

"Is  it  the  merciful  senorita? "  he  asked  when  the 
cup  was  withdrawn. 

"  Yes,"  came  the  reply,  in  a  faint  but  thrilling 
whisper. 

"  I  do  not  ask  your  reason  for  planning  to  save  us, 
but  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said.  "  If  you, 
too,  wish  to  be  saved  from  this  place  of  despair  - 
madam,  I  ask  no  questions  —  I  shall  blithely  risk  my 
life  to  save  you.  It  is  for  the  love  of  one  merciful  and 
beautiful  woman  that  I  cling  to  life  —  then  in  the 
service  of  another  as  merciful,  and  perhaps  as  beautiful, 
let  me  lose  it." 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  woman  you  love?" 
asked  the  voice  of  the  senorita,  so  low  that  he  could 
scarcely  hear  the  words. 

"  Isobel,"  replied  Drurie  frankly.  It  was  like  food 
to  his  hungry  heart  to  speak  of  his  love. 

"  Then,  for  her  sake,  you  must  save  yourself  and 
me,"  came  the  faint  reply.  "  Before  midnight  your 
chains  shall  be  unfastened.  Be  wise  and  brave.  For 
her  sake  —  Heaven  prosper  you,  my  captain." 

He  felt  the  touch  of  lips  on  his  hand.  Quick  as 
thought,  for  all  the  blindness  of  his  bandaged  eyes,  he 
caught  one  of  her  hands  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 


The  Rising  305 

For  hours  Drurie  lay  there,  alone,  his  heart  full  of 
hope  and  of  a  strange,  sweet  excitement.  He  thought 
of  the  senorita  —  and  it  was  the  vision  of  Isobel  that 
came  to  his  mind.  This  was  a  mad  thing,  but  none 
the  less  exhilarating  for  its  madness.  He  gave  his 
imagination  free  wing.  The  hand  he  had  kissed 
became  the  hand  of  the  beautiful  girl  he  loved.  He 
pictured  Isobel  in  that  dank  hut,  kneeling  on  the 
earthen  floor  and  supporting  his  head  on  one  white  and 
rounded  arm  and  holding  the  cup  to  his  lips.  At  last 
he  heard  the  shuffling  of  naked,  blistered  feet  and  the 
clanking  of  irons,  and  he  knew  that  the  day  of  toil 
was  over  and  the  night  of  deliverance  at  hand. 

Then  reason  returned  to  his  brain,  but  not  to  his 
heart.  His  brain  told  him  that  the  approaching  hour 
held  nothing  for  him  but  a  battle  and  the  chance  of 
life  —  or  death.  Yet  his  heart  played  with  the  mad 
dream  of  the  girl  he  loved. 

Food  and  water  were  brought  to  the  eight  survivors. 
Even  Drurie  forced  a  little  of  the  unsavoury  mess 
down  his  throat.  In  broken  whispers  the  plan  of  the 
attack  was  passed  along  the  wall  from  one  to  another 
of  the  shackled  slaves. 

They  were  slaves  no  longer.  Already  their  hearts 
were  free  and  the  chains  on  their  aching  bodies  for- 
gotten. Again  they  were  sailors  and  soldiers,  and  a 


306  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

fight  was  close  at  hand.  Sweet  is  rest  after  strife; 
but  sweeter  still  is  strife  after  slavery  and  torture,  hope 
after  despair. 

They  waited  in  the  dark  hut,  whispering,  joking  a 
little.  They  could  hear  the  other  slaves,  in  their 
distant  quarters,  chanting  a  wild,  tuneless  song. 

Hall,  a  big  New  Englander,  began  snapping  the 
joints  of  his  fingers.  "  I  must  supple  'em  up  a  bit,"  he 
whispered,  "  so's  to  get  a  good  grip  on  the  cutlass." 

"  Aye,  an'  mine  be  as  stiff  as  \vood,"  replied  another; 
"  but  they'll  limber,  I  reckon,  when  they  feel  the  shark- 
skin grip  o'  a  good  hanger." 

"  There  be  no  cuttin'-tool  in  the  world  so  sweet  to 
handle  as  a  fust-class  English-made  hanger,"  said 
Tyler,  with  relish  hi  his  tones. 

At  last  Laroche  and  two  blacks  entered  the  hut. 
The  blacks  carried  cutlasses  wrapped  in  sacking. 
Laroche  carried  a  clay  jug  full  of  water  and  rum  and 
fresh  limes.  He  placed  it  on  the  earthen  floor  and  felt 
his  way  to  where  Drurie  sat  against  the  wall.  He 
unlocked  the  great  chain  from  the  Virginian's  waist, 
and  then  struck  off  the  irons  from  wrist  and  leg.  And 
so  with  the  other  seven,  working  swriftly  and  noiselessly. 
When  all  were  free,  without  a  word  they  went  to  where 
the  two  bundles  of  cutlasses  lay  on  the  ground,  and 
each  selected  a  weapon  to  suit  his  hand  and  arm. 


The  Rising  507 

Then,  also  in  silence,  each  drank  a  measure  of  the 
revivifying  punch.  As  there  was  only  one  cup  they 
drank  in  turn,  according  to  their  old  ratings  aboard 
the  Brave  Ad-venture. 

The  night  was  windless  and  a  mist  hung  between 
the  stars  and  the  earth.  The  eight,  accompanied  by 
Laroche  and  the  two  blacks  who  had  brought  them 
their  weapons,  stole  from  the  hut  and  across  the  little 
yard.  Drurie  still  wore  a  bandage  around  his  head  and 
over  his  injured  eye;  but  he  had  parted  the  damp 
and  fragrant  folds  of  the  linen  so  that  he  could  see  with 
his  right  eye. 

At  the  gate  in  the  wall  they  divided  into  two  parties. 
Cremona,  with  Hall,  Waller,  and  Hogan  and  the  two 
blacks,  went  down  the  slope  toward  the  lagoon  where 
a  lantern  in  the  rigging  of  the  little  schooner  glowed  like 
a  red  star.  Tyler,  Benson,  and  Jarvis,  led  by  Drurie 
and  Laroche,  crawled  slowly  and  noiselessly  through 
the  garden  toward  the  house. 

At  last,  peering  between  the  rose-bushes,  Drurie 
caught  sight  of  the  don  taking  his  ease  with  the  master 
of  the  Twelve  Apostles.  The  two  rascals  sat  scarcely 
ten  yards  away,  at  a  small  table  at  the  top  of  the  gallery 
steps.  Two  candles  stood  on  the  table,  the  flames 
straight  as  darts  in  the  nerveless  air.  The  men  were 
leaning  forward,  smoking  and  talking  confidentially. 


308  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Glasses  and  a  round-bellied  decanter  gleamed  between 
them  in  the  soft  glow  of  the  candles.  The  heart  of  the 
decanter,  being  of  choice  and  ancient  rum  from  Mar- 
tinique, shone  red  as  a  ruby. 

Drurie  was  motionless  as  stone,  crouched  there 
close  to  the  warm  earth,  gripping  the  hilt  of  his  cutlass 
with  fingers  as  hard  as  iron.  And  his  heart  was  hard 
as  iron,  though  heated  red  with  hate  of  the  man  who  sat 
so  close  to  him,  leering  behind  the  candles. 

He  thought  of  his  dead  servant,  the  lad  Nicholas, 
and  of  the  blood  springing  across  the  backs  of  his  men. 
He  remembered  the  stinging,  crushing  strokes  of  the 
stick  across  his  face.  His  men  stirred  behind  him, 
gripping  and  regripping  their  weapons  and  gasping 
nervously  for  a  full  breath  of  the  heavy  air. 

Laroche  touched  Drurie's  arm  and  whispered  that 
the  lantern  was  being  lowered  from  the  rigging  of  the 
schooner.  Drurie  got  quietly  to  his  feet,  paused  for  a 
moment  to  hear  his  men  rise  behind  him,  and  then 
dashed  for  the  gallery.  The  table  went  over  with  a 
crash  of  glass  and  silver  and  the  candles  were  trampled 
under  foot. 

"Hold  them,  lads,"  cried  Drurie.  "Do  not  kill! 
It  is  for  me  to  kill!" 

In  the  dark  it  was  hard  to  know  when  you  were 
killing  a  man  and  when  you  were  simply  trying  to  keep 


The  Rising  309 

him  from  killing  you.  The  lads  did  their  best  to  obey 
their  commander's  orders;  but  when  Laroche  came 
suddenly  from  the  interior  of  the  house  with  two  fresh 
candles  in  his  hands,  the  master  of  the  little  schooner 
was  found  to  be  lying  flat  on  the  floor  of  the  gallery, 
stone  dead. 

Benson  and  Jarvis  held  the  don,  faint,  but  uninjured. 
A  cheer  rang  across  from  the  little  vessel  in  the  lagoon ; 
and  from  the  direction  of  the  slaves'  quarters,  where  the 
overseers  and  drivers  had  been  making  merry  with  the 
crew  of  the  schooner,  came  sounds  as  of  wild  beasts 
in  mortal  combat. 

"  They  have  lost  their  fear  of  the  don  and  his  hire- 
lings," said  Drurie,  with  a  shudder. 

More  candles  were  brought  from  the  house.  Some 
were  placed  on  the  ledges  of  the  windows,  and  some  on 
the  rail  of  the  gallery.  The  shipmaster's  body  and 
the  chairs  and  broken  table  were  tossed  into  the  garden. 

"  Now,  lads,"  said  Drurie,  "  I  am  going  to  kill  this 
dog  in  fair  fight.  Guard  the  steps,  one  of  you.  Give 
him  a  cutlass,  some  one." 

He  turned  to  the  limp  figure  in  the  grip  of  the  two 
Englishmen.  "  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  die  like  a  man, 
even  if  you  have  never  lived  like  one,"  he  said. 

Laroche  handed  his  former  master  a  cutlass.  "  You 
will  remember  my  back  when  this  gentleman  drives  a 


310  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

foot  of  iron  into  your  dirty  carcass,"  he  said,  grin- 
ning. 

The  seamen  released  Alcazardo.  He  held  the  cutlass 
limply  and  stood  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

"  Lads,"  said  Drurie,  "  low  as  this  fellow  is,  I  want 
to  kill  him  fair.  If  he  disables  me,  or  kills  me,  you  must 
let  him  go  free  —  though  where  to,  the  devil  only  knows. 
He  may  have  a  boat  hidden  somewhere,  in  which  he'll 
be  able  to  row  away  to  some  other  island.  However 
that  may  be,  if  he  beats  me  in  fair  fight  you  must  let 
him  go.  But  you  need  not  fear.  I  promised  to  show 
you  his  blood,  and  I'll  do  it." 

Laroche  smiled  quietly.  He  was  not  bound  by  any 
rules  of  honesty  in  matters  of  this  kind,  as  were  the 
Virginian  and  the  sailors.  He  had  his  cutlass  ready, 
alert  to  strike  the  don  at  the  first  sign  of  his  overpower- 
ing the  other. 

Fired  with  the  courage  of  desperation,  the  don 
attacked  strongly,  ringing  cut  after  cut  on  Drurie's 
guard.  Both  his  eyes  were  at  his  service  and  his  arm 
was  long.  At  first  it  seemed  to  the  onlookers  as  if  he 
would  surely  overcome  his  small  and  enfeebled  an- 
tagonist. 

Then,  suddenly,  Drurie  halted  in  his  slow  and 
staggering  retreat ;  and  in  the  instant  of  ceasing  to 
retreat  he  began  to  advance.  He  saw  that  he  must  make 


The  Rising  311 

a  great  effort,  even  if  at  the  expense  of  all  his  strength. 
His  short  blade  circled  and  stabbed  —  a  rapier  and  a 
sabre  in  one.  He  moved  swiftly  and  lightly,  to  the 
right,  to  the  left,  and  forward. 

Tyler  chuckled.  Laroche  swore  softly  in  admiration. 
Then  the  don  screamed  at  the  bite  of  an  inch  of  cold 
steel  in  his  shoulder  and  lurched  to  one  side.  The 
candles  toppled  from  the  rail  into  the  garden.  A  back- 
handed sweep  of  his  blade  sent  the  other  candles  flying 
from  the  window-sill. 

"  He's  gone!    After  him,  my  lads!  "  cried  Drurie. 

The  don  had  escaped,  sure  enough.  Clearing  the 
railing  of  the  gallery  at  a  bound,  he  dashed  through 
the  rose-garden,  through  a  hedge  of  flowering  shrubs, 
and  into  a  field  of  full-grown  canes^  and  hot  on  his 
trail  dashed  Laroche,  the  three  English  sailors,  and 
half  a  dozen  blacks.  The  night  was  dark  and  the  trail 
thick  with  blinds. 

Drurie  did  not  follow  his  antagonist.  He  had  put 
every  ounce  of  his  strength  into  the  combat  with  the 
Spaniard,  and  now  a  sudden  swirling  faintness  overtook 
him.  He  reeled  to  the  open  door  and  peered  within. 
The  great  hall  was  dark;  but  he  made  out  a  gleam  of 
white  close  in  front  of  him. 

"  Are  you  safe,  senorita?  "  he  cried.  Then  he  fell 
across  the  threshold. 


312  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

Around  the  house,  and  through  the  canes,  the  slaves 
still  hunted.  Their  fierce,  exultant  cries  rang  far  and 
wide  over  the  little  island.  Cremona  and  his  men 
held  the  little  schooner.  Laroche,  three  of  the  English 
seamen,  and  a  few  blacks  guarded  the  house.  They 
knew  that  as  soon  as  the  hunting  was  over  the  mad  pack 
would  loot  and  destroy  the  house. 

"  We  must  hurry,  senorita,"  said  Laroche.  "  Let 
two  of  these  men  carry  their  captain.  We  must  get 
aboard  the  schooner  before  the  beasts  outside  become 
quite  mad.  They  have  found  the  rum  —  and  they 
have  tasted  blood." 

But  at  that  moment  Francis  Drurie  came  back  to  the 
world.  Looking  up,  he  saw  the  face  of  Isobel  Dariza 
close  above  him,  the  wonderful  eyes  agleam  with  tears. 

"  It  is  another  vision,"  he  said,  weakly. 

Then  the  face  came  closer,  and  he  felt  her  lips  upon 
his. 

Captain  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  sighted  the  little 
island  shortly  before  noon;  and  as  he  drew  near  a 
small  schooner  passed  across  his  course,  not  a  mile 
distant,  and  headed  northward. 

"  Let  her  go,"  said  he.  "  She'd  not  be  worth  the 
trouble  of  overhauling." 

When  he  arrived  off  the  entrance  to  the  lagoon  he 


The  Rising  313 

beheld  a  smouldering  ruin  where  the  denies  fine  house  had 
stood;  and  a  mob  of  wild  creatures,  armed  with  cane- 
knives,  shouted  defiance  from  the  beach.  Had  he 
been  foolhardy  enough  to  force  a  landing  he  might 
have  stumbled  across  the  lifeless  and  mutilated  body 
of  the  Sefior  Josef  Alcazardo. 


THE  END. 


From 

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DAVID  BRAN 

By   MORLEY    ROBERTS,    author   of   "  Rachel   Marr,"    "  The 

Idlers,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,   with    frontispiece  in  color  by  Frank  T. 

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In  "  David  Bran  "  Mr.  Roberts  presents  in  a  new  light  the  old 
story  of  a  man  and  two  women.  Characterized  as  this  book 
is  by  the  skilful  achievement  which  distinguished  "  Rachel 
Marr,"  its  interest  is  strengthened  by  a  remarkable  defence  of 
heterodox  doctrines  and  the  surprising  and  courageous  conclusion 
to  which  the  author  draws  his  novel. 

"  Among  living  novelists  Morley  Roberts  holds  a  high  place; 
but  '  David  Bran  '  will  enormously  strengthen  his  reputation." — 
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THE  QUEST  FOR  THE  ROSE  OF  SHARON 

By  BURTON  E.  STEVENSON,  author  of  "  The  Marathon  Mys- 
tery," "  The  Holladay  Case,"  etc. 

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and  her  family,  and  one's  curiosity  is  excited  to  the  utmost  by 
the  methods  employed  to  bring  to  a  successful  termination  a 
quest  which  is  not  accomplished  until  the  very  last  chapter  is 
reached. 

The  author's  style  is  quaint  and  charming  and  the  characters 
all  flesh  and  blood. 


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ANNE  OF  AVONLEA 

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Anne  Shirley  (Anne  of  Green  Gables)  is  beyond  question  the 
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Some  opinions  regarding  Anne  of  Green  Gables: 
"  In  '  Anne  of  Green  Gables  '  you  will  find  the  dearest  and 
most  moving  and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice."  — 
Mark  Twain  in  a  letter  to  Francis  Wilson. 

"  I  see  that  she  has  become  one  of  the  popular  young  ladies  of 
the  season,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  if  she  had  no  one  else  to 
love  her,  I  should  still  be  her  most  devoted  admirer.  .  .  .  And 
I  take  it  as  a  great  test  of  the  worth  of  the  book  that  while  the 
young  people  are  rummaging  all  over  the  house  looking  for  Anne, 
the  head  of  the  family  has  carried  her  off  to  read  on  his  way  to 
town."  —  Bliss  Carman. 
An  English  opinion: 

"  At  long  intervals  there  is  sent  across  the  Atlantic  a  book 
which  lives  in  the  public  memory  for  years.  Such  were  '  Helen's 
Babies '  and  '  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,'  and  '  Anne  of  Green 
Gables  '  deserves  to  make  an  equal  sensation."  —  The  Notting- 
ham (England)  Guardian. 


A  GENTLEMAN  OF  QUALITY 

By  FREDERIC  VAN  RENSSELAER  DEY,  author  of  "  The  Magic 

Story." 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  Frank  P.  Fairbanks.      Cloth 

decorative $1.50 

A  thrilling  tale  of  mistaken  identity,  the  scene  of  which 
is  laid  for  the  most  part  in  England  of  the  present  day.  It  is 
a  graphic  story  of  human,  forceful  life;  of  despair  crowding  a 
man  even  while  a  woman's  love  seeks  to  surround  him;  of 
trickery  and  guilelessness;  of  vengeance  robbed;  of  the  unwilling 
masquerader  who  unknowingly  follows  the  lead  of  justice  away 
from  the  bitter  of  crime  and  the  sweet  of  love,  on  to  a  new 
shore  and  through  the  mazes  of  English  aristocratic  life,  till  he 
rests  at  last  where  no  man  can  foresee  who  has  not  been  with 
Love  a  Pioneer. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MISS  MOTTE 

By  CAROLINE  ATWATER  MASON,  author  of  "  The  Binding  of 

the  Strong,"  "  A  Lily  of  France,"  etc. 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  Albert  R.  Thayer. 

Cloth  decorative         .  $1.25 

Mrs.  Mason's  story  is  a  delightful  combination  of  mystery  and 
romance.  The  heroine,  a  young  woman  of  remarkable  per- 
sonality and  charm,  is  persuaded,  on  account  of  disclosures  made 
by  her  mother,  into  a  promise  never  to  marry,  and  hence  holds 
herself  aloof,  which  but  adds  zest  to  the  pursuit  of  her  several 
admirers.  The  unravelling  of  the  truth  concerning  her  birth,  and 
its  effect  on  the  mother,  solves  the  mystery  to  the  reader  and 
brings  the  romance  to  a  happy  termination  in  a  dramatic  climax. 

The  other  characters  in  the  book,  the  worldly  clergyman;  his 
assistant,  a  young  man  of  his  ideals;  the  society  woman  of 
wealth  and  her  invalid  husband  with  scientific  proclivities,  as 
well  as  the  morbid  mother,  are  all  splendidly  drawn. 

THE  FURTHER  ADVENTURES  OF  QUINCY  ADAMS 
SAWYER  AND  MASON  CORNER  FOLKS 

By  CHARLES  FELTON  PIDGIN,  author  of    "  Quincy  Adams 
Sawyer,"  "  Blennerhassett,"  "  Stephen  Holton,"  etc. 
With  six  full-page  illustrations  by  Henry  Roth. 

Cloth  decorative $1.50 

Some  eight  years  ago,  "  Quincy  Adams  Sawyer  and  Mason 
Corner  Folks  "  was  published,  being  heralded,  truthfully,  as  the 
work  of  an  "  unknown  author."  The  book  met  with  instant 
recognition  by  the  critics  and  public,  and  proved  one  of  the 
"  best  sellers  "  in  recent  years.  Hundreds  of  letters  have  come 
to  the  author  from  unknown  correspondents  all  over  the  country 
asking  if  they  are  not  going  to  hear  more  about  "  Quincy  "  and 
the  other  characters  in  the  book.  The  present  story  has  all  the 
popular  appeal  of  the  earlier  book  and  should  repeat  its  success. 

MASTERS  OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

By  THEODORE  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  Hemming,  the  Adven- 
turer," "  Captain  Love,"  etc. 

Illustrated,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

The  scene  of  Mr.  Roberts'  new  story  is  laid  in  early  Colonial 
times  in  Virginia,  although  part  of  the  action  takes  place  upon 
the  high  seas.  The  story  is  easily  the  best  that  Mr.  Roberts 
has  yet  done,  and  his  descriptions  of  the  ample  hospitality  of 
early  days  in  Virginia,  the  chivalry  of  its  men  and  the  beauty 
of  its  women,  have  never  been  surpassed. 


L.  C.  PAGE  &>  COMPANY 


TAG:    YOU'RE  IT;    OR  THE  CHIEN  BOULE  DOG 

By  VALANCE  J.  PATRIARCHS. 

Illustrated.    Cloth  decorative $1.00 

An  amusing  story  of  a  newly  married  couple,  whose  honey- 
moon is  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  lost  child,  and  a  dog, 
decidedly  a  dog.  The  young  wife,  whose  kindly  interest  in  the 
forlorn  little  fellow  traveller,  "  Bateese  "  and  his  "  Chien  Boule 
Dog,"  results  in  all  sorts  of  complications,  the  young  husband, 
and  last,  though  not  least,  the  boy,  "  Bateese,"  who  is  sublimely 
unconscious  of  being  the  central  figure  in  what  proves  almost  a 
tragedy  (at  least  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  man  cheated  out  of 
his  noneymoon)  are  all  drawn  with  a  fine  humor. 

The  story  is  an  exquisite  bit  of  humor  which  will  be  read  again 
and  again. 


Selections  from 
L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 
List  of  Fiction 


WORKS  OF 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 

Each  one  vol.,  library  12mo,  doth  decorative         .        .      $1.50 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  GEORGIANA 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  DATS  OF  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER.  Illus- 
trated by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  A  love-story  in  the  highest  degree,  a  dashing  story,  and  a  re- 
markably well  finished  piece  of  work."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE  BRIGHT  FACE  OF  DANGER 

Being  an  account  of  some  adventures  of  Henri  de  Launay,  son 
of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
"  Mr.  Stephens  has  fairly  outdone  himself.  We  thank  him 

heartily.    The  story  is  nothing  if  not  spirited  and  entertaining, 

rational  and  convincing."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  MURRAY  DAVENPORT 

(40th  thousand.) 

"  This  is  easily  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Stephens  has  yet  done. 
Those  familiar  with  his  other  novels  can  best  judge  the  measure 
of  this  praise,  which  is  generous."  —  Buffalo  News. 

CAPTAIN  RAVENSHAW 

OR,  THE  MAID  OF  CHEAPSIDE.  (52d  thousand.)  A  romance 
of  Elizabethan  London.  Illustrations  by  Howard  Pyle  and 
other  artists. 

Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artagnan  have  we  had 
anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of  romance  and  comedy. 

THE  CONTINENTAL  DRAGOON 

A  ROMANCE   OF   PHILIPSE   MANOR   HOUSE   IN   1778.     (53d 
thousand.)     Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  with  its  scenes  laid  on 
neutral  territory. 


L.  C.  PAGE  &>  COMPANY'S 


PHILIP  WINWOOD 

(70th  thousand.)  A  Sketch  of  the  Domestic  History  of  an 
American  Captain  in  the  War  of  Independence,  embracing 
events  that  occurred  between  and  during  the  years  1763  and 
1785  in  New  York  and  London.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  D. 
Hamilton. 

AN  ENEMY  TO  THE  KING 

(70th  thousand.)  From  the  "  Recently  Discovered  Memoirs 
of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire."  Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
An  historical  romance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  describing  the 

adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  court  of  Henry 

III.,  and  on  the  field  with  Henry  IV. 

THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS 

A  STORY  OF  ADVENTURE.     (35th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by 

H.  C.  Edwards. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  an 
account  of  the  life  of  an  American  gentleman  adventurer  of 
Jacobite  ancestry. 

A  GENTLEMAN  PLAYER 

His  ADVENTURES  ON  A  SECRET  MISSION  FOR  QUEEN  ELIZA- 
BETH.    (48th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
The  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who  joins  Shakespeare's  com- 
pany of  players,  and  becomes  a  friend  and  protege  of  the  great 
poet. 

CLEMENTINA'S  HIGHWAYMAN 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated $1.50 

Mr.  Stephens  has  put  into  his  new  book,  "  Clementina's  High- 
wayman," the  finest  qualities  of  plot,  construction,  and  literary 
finish. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a  dashing, 
sparkling,  vivacious  comedy,  with  a  heroine  as  lovely  and 
changeable  as  an  April  day,  and  a  hero  all  ardor  and  daring. 

TALES  FROM  BOHEMIA 

Illustrated  by  Wallace  Goldsmith. 

Cloth,  decorative  cover $1.50 

These  bright  and  clever  tales  deal  with  people  of  the  theatre 
and  odd  characters  in  other  walks  of  life  which  fringe  on  Bohemia. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 

HAUNTERS  OF  THE  SILENCES 

Cloth,  one  volume,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color         ....      $2.00 
The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberts's  new  collection  are  the  strongest  and 
best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely  met 
with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent  "  In  the  Silences,"  where  they 
are  the  supreme  rulers.  Mr.  Roberts  has  written  of  them  sympa- 
thetically, as  always,  but  with  fine  regard  for  the  scientific  truth. 
"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

RED  FOX 

THE  STORY  OF  His  ADVENTUROUS  CAREER  IN  THE  RINGWAAK 
WILDS,  AND  OF  His  FINAL  TRIUMPH  OVER  THE  ENEMIES  OF 
His  KIND.     With  fifty  illustrations,  including  frontispiece  in 
color  and  cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative       ....  $2.00 

"  True  in  substance  but  fascinating  as  fiction.  It  will  interest 
old  and  young,  city-bound  and  free-footed,  those  who  know  ani- 
mals and  those  who  do  not."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  A  brilliant  chapter  in  natural  history."  —  Philadelphia  North 
American. 

THE  KINDRED  OF  THE  WILD 

A  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE.    With  fifty-one  full-page  plates  and 
many  decorations  from  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Square  quarto,  decorative  cover $2.00 

"  Is  in  many  ways  the  most  brilliant  collection  of  animal  stories 
that  has  appeared;  well  named  and  well  done."  —  John  Bur- 
roughs. 

THE  WATCHERS  OF  THE  TRAILS 

A  companion  volume  to  "  The  Kindred  of  the  Wild."    With 
forty-eight  full-page  plates  and  many  decorations  from  draw- 
ings by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  decorative  cover $2.00 


L.  C.  PAGE  dr-   COMPANY'S 


"  These  stories  are  exquisite  in  their  refinement,  and  yet  robust 
in  their  appreciation  of  some  of  the  rougher  phases  of  woodcraft . 
Among  the  many  writers  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an 
enviable  place."  —  The  Outlook. 

"  This  is  a  book  full  of  delight.  An  additional  charm  lies  in  Mr. 
Bull's  faithful  and  graphic  illustrations,  which  in  fashion  all  their 
own  tell  the  story  of  the  wild  life,  illuminating  and  supplementing 
the  pen  pictures  of  the  author."  —  Literary  Digest. 

THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WATER 

With  thirty  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull 
and  Frank  Vining  Smith.  Cover  design  and  decorations  by 
Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Every  paragraph  is  a  splendid  picture,  suggesting  in  a  few 

words  the  appeal  of  the  vast,   illimitable  wilderness."  —  The 

Chicago  Tribune. 

THE  HEART  THAT  KNOWS 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .        .        .  $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  singularly  effective  strength,  luminous  in  literary 

color,  rich  in  its  passionate,  yet  tender  drama." — New  York  Globe. 

EARTH'S  ENIGMAS 

A  new  edition  of  Mr.  Roberts's  first  volume  of  fiction,  pub- 
lished in  1892,  and  out  of  print  for  several  years,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles 
Livingston  Bull. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .        .        .        .      $1.50 
"  It  will  rank  high  among  collections  of  short  stories.     In 
'  Earth's  Enigmas  '  is  a  wider  range  of  subject  than  in  the  '  Kin- 
dred of  the  Wild.'  "  —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the  illustrated 
edition  by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

BARBARA  LADD 

With  four  illustrations  by  Frank  Verbeck. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover  .        .  .     $1.50 

"  From  the  opening  chapter  to  the  final  page  Mr.  Roberts  lures 
us  on  by  his  rapt  devotion  to  the  changing  aspects  of  Nature  and 
by  his  keen  and  sympathetic  analysis  of  human  character."  — 
Boston  Transcript, 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


CAMERON  OF  LOCHIEL 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Philippe  Aubert  de  Gaspe",  with 

frontispiece  in  color  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Professor  Roberts  deserves  the  thanks  of  his  reader  for  giving 
a  wider  audience  an  opportunity  to  enjoy  this  striking  bit  of 
French  Canadian  literature."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  It  is  not  often  in  these  days  of  sensational  and  philosophical 
novels  that  one  picks  up  a  book  that  so  touches  the  heart."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

THE  PRISONER  OF  MADEMOISELLE 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top        .        .        .      $1.50 

A  tale  of  Acadia,  —  a  land  which  is  the  author's  heart's  delight, 
—  of  a  valiant  young  lieutenant  and  a  winsome  maiden,  who  first 
captures  and  then  captivates. 

"  This  is  the  kind  of  a  story  that  makes  one  grow  younger,  more 
innocent,  more  light-hearted.  Its*literary  quality  is  impeccable. 
It  is  not  every  day  that  such  a  heroine  blossoms  into  even  tempo- 
rary existence,  and  the  very  name  of  the  story  bears  a  breath  of 
charm."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANCIENT  WOOD 

With  six  illustrations  by  James  L.  Weston. 

Library  12mo,  decorative  cover $1.50 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  novels  of  recent  days."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  A  classic  twentieth-century  romance."  —  New  York  Commer- 
cial Advertiser. 

THE  FORGE  IN  THE  FOREST 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer, 
Seigneur  de  Briart,  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black  Abbe",  and 
of  his  adventures  in  a  strange  fellowship.  Illustrated  by  Henry 
Sandham,  R.  C.  A. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  gilt  top $1.50 

A  story  of  pure  love  and  heroic  adventure. 

BY  THE  MARSHES  OF  MINAS 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated  .  .  .  $1.50 
Most  of  these  romances  are  in  the  author's  lighter  and  more 

playful  vein;   each  is  a  unit  of  absorbing  interest  and  exquisite 

workmanship. 


L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY'S 


A  SISTER   TO   EVANGELINE 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  she  went  into 
exile  with  the  villagers  of  Grand  Pr6. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated       .        .        .      $1.50 
Swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  wholesome  purity,  deep  pas- 
sion, and  searching  analysis  characterize  this  strong  novel. 


WORKS  OF 

LILIAN  BELL 

CAROLINA  LEE 

With  a  frontispiece  in  color  from  an  oil  painting  by  Dora 
Wheeler  Keith.  Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover.  $1.50 
"  A  Christian  Science  novel,  full  of  action,  alive  with  incident 

and  brisk  with  pithy  dialogue  and  humor."  —  Boston  Transcript. 
"  A  charming  portrayal  of  the  attractive  life  of  the  South, 

refreshing  as  a  breeze  that  blows  through  a  pine  forest."  — 

Albany  Times-Union. 

HOPE  LORING 

Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .        .        .  SI  .50 

"  Tall,  slender,  and  athletic,  fragile-looking,  yet  with  nerves 
and  sinews  of  steel  under  the  velvet  flesh,  frank  as  a  boy  and 
tender  and  beautiful  as  a  woman,  free  and  independent,  yet  not 
bold  —  such  is  '  Hope  Loring,'  by  long  odds  the  subtlest  study 
that  has  yet  been  made  of  the  American  girl."  —  Dorothy  Dix, 
in  the  New  York  American. 

ABROAD  WITH  THE  JIMMIES 

With  a  portrait,  in  duogravure,  of  the  author. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    ....      SI. 50 
"  Full  of  ozone,  of  snap,  of  ginger,  of  swing  and  momentum."  — 
Chicago  Evening  Post. 

AT  HOME  WITH  THE  JARDfflES 

A  companion  volume  to  "  Abroad  with  the  Jimmies." 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .        .        .  $1.50 

"  Bits  of  gay  humor,  sunny,  whimsical  philosophy,  and  keen 
indubitable  insight  into  the  less  evident  aspects  and  workings 
of  pure  human  nature,  with  a  slender  thread  of  a  cleverly 
extraneous  love  story,  keep  the  interest  of  the  reader  fresh."  — 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


THE  INTERFERENCE  OF  PATRICIA 

With  a  frontispiece  from  drawing  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Small  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover       ....      $1.25 

"  There  is  life  and  action  and  brilliancy  and  dash  and  clever- 
ness and  a  keen  appreciation  of  business  ways  in  this  story."  — 
Grand  Rapids  Herald. 

"  A  story  full  of  keen  and  flashing  satire."  —  Chicago  Record- 
Herald. 

A  BOOK  OF  GIRLS 

With  a  frontispiece. 

Small  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover       ....      $1.25 

"  The  stories  are  all  eventful  and  have  effective  humor."  — 
New  York  Sun. 

"  Lilian  Bell  surely  understands  girls,  for  she  depicts  all  the 
variations  of  girl  nature  so  charmingly."  —  Chicago  Journal. 

The  above  two  volumes  boxed  in  special  holiday  dress,  per  set, 
$2.50.  

WORKS  OF 

NATHAN  GALLIZIER 

THE  SORCERESS  OF  ROME 

With  four  drawings  in  color  by  "  The  Kinneys." 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated $1.50 

The  love-story  of  Otto  III.,  the  boy  emperor,  and  Stephania, 
wife  of  the  Senator  Crescentius  of  Rome,  has  already  been  made 
the  basis  of  various  German  poems  and  plays. 

Mr.  Gallizier  has  used  it  for  the  main  theme  of  "  The  Sorceress 
of  Rome,"  the  second  book  of  his  trilogy  of  romances  on  the 
mediaeval  life  of  Italy.  In  detail  and  finish  the  book  is  a  brilliant 
piece  of  work,  describing  clearly  an  exciting  and  strenuous 
period. 

CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

With  six  illustrations  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

A  powerful  romance  of  the  fall  of  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty  in 
Italy  and  the  overthrow  of  Manfred  by  Charles  of  Anjou,  the 
champion  of  Pope  Clement  IV. 

"  There  is  color;  there  is  sumptuous  word  painting  in  these 
pages;  the  action  is  terrific  at  times;  vividness  and  life  are  in 
every  part;  and  brilliant  descriptions  entertain  the  reader  and 
give  a  singular  fascination  to  the  tale."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 


L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY'S 


WORKS  OF 

MORLEY  ROBERTS 

RACHEL  MARR 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  tremendous  force,  with  a  style  that  is  sure, 
luxuriant,  compelling,  full  of  color  and  vital  force."  —  Elia  W. 
Peattie,  in  Chicago  Tribune. 

"  In  atmosphere,  if  nothing  else,  the  story  is  absolutely  per- 
fect." —  Boston  Transcript. 

LADY  PENELOPE 

With  nine  illustrations  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1 .50 

"  A  fresh  and  original  bit  of  comedy  as  amusing  as  it  is  auda- 
cious." —  Boston  Transcript. 

THE  IDLERS 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  John  C.  Frohn. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  It  is  as  absorbing  as  the  devil.  Mr.  Roberts  gives  us  the 
antithesis  of  '  Rachel  Marr  '  in  an  equally  masterful  and  convin- 
cing work."  —  The  New  York  Sun. 

THE  PROMOTION  OF  THE  ADMIRAL 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .        .        .      $1.50 

"  If  any  one  writes  better  sea  stories  than  Mr.  Roberts,  we 

don't  know  who  it  is;  and  if  there  is  a  better  sea  story  of  its  kind 

than  this  it  would  be  a  joy  to  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  it."  — 

New  York  Sun. 

THE  FLYING  CLOUD 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  .  .  $1.50 
When  "  The  Flying  Cloud  "  was  published,  the  New  York 
Times  Saturday  Review  said:  "  It  is  the  drama  of  the  sea:  human 
nature  stripped  naked  by  salt  water  alchemy  and  painted  as 
only  the  author  or  Joseph  Conrad  could  paint  it.  ...  A  corking 
story,  a  ripping  good  story!  " 

THE  BLUE  PETER 

With  frontispiece  by  Henry  Roth. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  .        .        .  $1.50 

Again  Morley  Roberts  has  hoisted  The  Blue  Peter,  and  sailing 
orders  aboard,  has  started  on  a  prosperous  voyage  to  the  scenes 
of  his  earliest  popularity. 

"  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  of  Morley  Roberts  that  he  is  one  of 
the  very  few  writers  of  to-day  who  live  up  to  the  best  traditions 
of  the  sea  story."  —  The  Bookman. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

ALICE  MacGOWAN  AND  GRACE   Mac- 
GOWAN  COOKE 

RETURN 

A  STORY  OF  THE  SEA  ISLANDS  IN  1739.    With  six  illustrations 

by  C.  D.  Williams. 

Library  12mo,  cloth $1.50 

"  So  rich  in  color  is  this  story,  so  crowded  with  figures,  it  seems 
like  a  bit  of  old  Italian  wall  painting,  a  piece  of  modern  tapestry, 
rather  than  a  modern  fabric  woven  deftly  from  the  threads  of  fact 
and  fancy  gathered  up  in  this  new  and  essentially  practical 
country,  and  therein  lies  its  distinctive  value  and  excellence."  — 
N.  Y.  Sun. 

THE  GRAPPLE 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  The  movement  of  the  tale  is  swift  and  dramatic.  The  story  is 
so  original,  so  strong,  and  so  finely  told  that  it  deserves  a  large 
and  thoughtful  public.  It  is  a  book  to  read  with  both  enjoyment 
and  enlightenment."  —  N.  Y.  Times  Saturday  Review  of  Books. 

THE  LAST  WORD 

Illustrated  with  seven  portraits  of  the  heroine. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .        .        .  $1.50 

"  When  one  receives  full  measure  to  overflowing  of  delight  in  a 
tender,  charming,  and  wholly  fascinating  new  piece  of  fiction,  the 
enthusiasm  is  apt  to  come  uppermost."  —  Louisville  Post. 

HULDAH 

With  illustrations  by  Fanny  Y.  Cory. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative       ....  $1.50 

Here  we  have  the  great-hearted,  capable  woman  of  the  Texas 
plains  dispensing  food  and  genial  philosophy  to  rough-and-ready 
cowboys.  Her  sympathy  takes  the  form  of  happy  laughter,  and 
her  delightfully  funny  phrases  amuse  the  fancy  and  stick  in  one's 
memory. 

WORKS  OF  OTHER  AUTHORS 

RICHARD  ELLIOTT,  FINANCIER 

By  GEORGE  CARLING. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .        .        .      $1.50 

"  Clever  in  plot  and  effective  in  style.    The  author  has  seized 

on  some  of  the  most  sensational  features  of  modern  finance  and 

uses  them  pretty  much  as  Alexandre  Dumas  did."  —  Ar.  Y.  Post. 


10  L.  C.  PAGE  <Sr»  COMPANY'S 

ANNE  OF  GREEN  GABLES 

By  L.  M.  MONTGOMERY.     Illustrated  by  M.  A.  and  W.  A. 

J.  Glaus.     12mo          ...  ....      $1.50 

"  Anne  of  Green  Gables  "  is  beyond  question  the  most  popular 
girl  heroine  in  recent  years.  Poets,  statesmen,  humorists,  critics, 
and  the  great  public  have  lost  their  hearts  to  the  charming  Anne. 
'•  Anne  of  Green  Gables  "  is  not  a  book  of  a  season,  to  attain  a 
wide  popularity  for  a  brief  space  and  sink  into  oblivion  with  many 
another  "  best  seller,"  but  its  literary  merit  is  such  that  it  is 
bound  to  have  a  permanent  place  in  literature  and  continue  to 
increase  in  popularity  with  each  succeeding  season. 

"  In  '  Anne  of  Green  Gables  '  you  will  find  the  dearest  and  most 
moving  and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice."  —  Mark 
Twain  in  a  letter  to  Francis  Wilson. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  much  I  enjoyed  the  book,  and  I  can 
heartily  recommend  it  to  my  friends  wno  are  not  ashamed  when 
from  time  to  time  they  find  the  eyes  suffuse  and  the  page  grow 
blurred  at  the  pathos  of  the  story."  —  Sir  Louis  H.  Dairies  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Canada. 

I  take  it  as  a  great  test  of  the  worth  of  the  book  that  while  the 
young  people  are  rummaging  all  over  the  house  looking  for  Anne, 
the  head  of  the  family  has  carried  her  off  to  read  on  his  way  to 
town."  —  Bliss  Carman. 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH 

By  ROBERT  LEE  DURHAM. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Henry  Roth         .        .      $1.50 

An  absorbing  and  intensely  realistic  story  dealing  with  the  race 
problem  in  this  country. 

"  '  A  terrific  story  but  a  true  one  '  —  this  is  what  the  thinking 
world  is  saying  concerning  '  The  Call  of  the  South.'  "  —  The 
Baltimore  Sun. 

"  The  force  of  the  book  is  tremendous.  In  dramatic  power  it 
equals  Tolstoi's  '  Resurrection.'  "  —  Rev.  Martin  D.  Hardin, 
Pastor  Third  Presbyterian  Church,  Chicago. 

"  The  speech  of  Rutledge  before  the  Senate  is  splendid.  By 
itself  it  is  one  of  the  best  arguments  against  social  equality  that 
has  ever  been  printed.  If  not  already  done,  it  should  be  printed 
in  a  pamphlet  by  itself  and  given  world-wide  distribution."  — 
The  Louisville  Courier- Journal. 

"  '  The  Call  of  the  South  '  is  a  great  book.'  In  it  Mr.  Durham 
holds  the  mirror  of  future  possible  events  up  to  us  in  a  fascinating, 
dramatic  form.  The  plot  of  the  story  would  alone  be  sufficient 
to  insure  its  success."  —  Birmingham  Age-Herald. 


